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A Seeming I rifle. Frontispiece. 


A 


SEEMING TRIFLE. 



MRS. M. JEANIE MALLARY. 

'v 





AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 








B 


COPYRIGHT, 1892. 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


n-3iYfy 




Contents. 


CHAPTER 1. 

A Journey to the Springs 7 

CHAPTER II. 

An Apology 22 

CHAPTER III. 

An Introduction 29- 

CHAPTER IV. 

Reading Works of Fiction : 38 

CHAPTER V. 

Making New Acquaintances 51 

CHAPTER VI. 

At the Ballroom Door 62 

CHAPTER VII. 

Lottie Bell 75 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A Farewell Card-Party - 87 

CHAPTER IX. 

Temptation Resisted 102 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER X. 

Keeping a Pledge 112 

CHAPTER XI. 

A Sad Discovery — 120 

CHAPTER XII. 

A Letter and its Effects 126 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Steps Downward 133 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Liquor and Cigarettes 141 

CHAPTER XV. 

Temptation Yielded To 151 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Sad Tidings Received 157 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Hastening to the Rescue 165 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Providential Aid 173 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Way of Return 187 

CHAPTER XX. 

My Brother’s Keeper 203 


CONTENTS. 


5 


CHAPTER XXL 

Faithful Efforts Rewarded 215 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Another Summer 230 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

A Living Church 241 



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A SBBIMING TBIPLB. 


CHAPTER I. 

A JOURNEY TO THE SPRINGS. 

It was a busy, bustling time in one house 

in the Southern village of L on a bright 

Tuesday in July. Before the door stood the 
omnibus and a dray of trunks, while within the 
house five people were trying to get away. Dr. 
Greyson stood waiting patiently for his wife, 
whose directions to the servants seemed never- 
ending, while George and May whispered, 

“Aunt Nancy, please don’t forget to feed 
Carlo.” 

“ No, nor my little kitty,” chimed in May ; 
“but please don’t give her any milk, for she 
might have fits, you know.” 

Olive stepped out into the yard to gather 
I some half-blown buds, pinning them upon her 
travelling dress so as to carry with her a little 
fragrant memory of home, when from the gate 
the impatient dHver’ called, 


8 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


All aboard !” 

Then there was hurrying to and fro within 
the house and down the front walk, but one 
little voice called back, 

“Please, Aunt Nancy, don’t forget; she 
might have fits, you know.” 

A waving of handkerchiefs from the omni- 
bus windows, a prolonged whistle from the en- 
gine, a few strokes of a bell, then puff -puff-puff, 
and the Greysons were off upon their summer 
outing. At first George and May could each 
have a window, and they kept up a continual 
chatter, calling each other’s attention to this, and 
that, claiming the first-seen beauties of the land- 
scape, and good-naturedly disputing about the 
ownership of tree, streamlet, or whatever else 
went whirling by. Olive sat alone, calmly happy. 
At first her gaze was fixed without at the pano- 
rama passing before her eyes. Here were vast 
cotton-fields white with creamy blossoms; then 
in the whirl of a dance dense forests passed ; 
but in a moment they were gone, and a beau- 
tiful river with tree-fringed banks was slowly 
crossed, while happy boys in bateaux waved 
their hats and shouted ; then faster and still 
faster upon the solid earth they sped along, now 
in deep cuts, then upon embankments, now over 
high trestles whose delicate tracery made one 
shudder, then through covered, noisy bridges— 


A JOURNEY TO THE SPRINGS. 9 

but whatever it was, it was delightful. Becom- 
ing weary with watching the outside world, 
Olive turned her eyes within and began a study 
of her fellow-passengers. She had heard that 
there was no better place for the study of hu- 
man nature than in a car full of people, so she 
determined to begin observations. 

“ As every seat is turned like mine,” she said 
to herself, “ and the conductor refuses to allow 
them to be changed, I do not see what I can find 
out by studying people’s backs. There is noth- 
ing very entertaining about them, I am sure. 
Yonder is a gentleman with a very red neck, 
broad, duSty shoulders, and from the crumpled 
condition and shade of hfs collar, I should im- 
agine that he had recently arrived, without stop- 
ping, from Tokio. But no, I must n’t begin my 
studies with criticisms. The gentleman must 
be making observations himself, for he turned 
and looked around, and when my eyes met his 
jolly blue ones I could not keep my face from 
flushing to think of what I had thought of his 
rear appearance. You cannot certainly judge 
people by their backs, not on the cars at least. 
Now that lady yonder with that pretty little 
girl, her collar is as crisp and glossy as though 
fresh from some Chinese laundry, and her 
dress is stylish ; while the child, with her soft 
flaxen curls and pearly skin, is lovely, and beau- 


10 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


tifully dressed. Here is certainly a pleasant 
study. 

“The mother has just spoken to the little 
one, who is now pouting and looking positively 
ugly, and when she did not mind, her mother 
seized her shoulders, set her down hard upon 
.the seat, and, I imagine, said, ‘ Now stay there, 
miss.’ The child is crying. I can hear her above 
the rattle of the cars and rush of the steam. 
Poor little thing ! How unnecessary that disci- 
pline and how quick-tempered and severe the 
mother ! Her fashionable dress and snowy col- 
lar have lost their charm for me. I cannot bear 
to look over on that side any more to that dear 
little creature fairly pinioned to the seat and 
made to act like grown-up people. Since the 
child would n’t stop crying her mother has given 
her a good shaking, and now is forcing her to 
take a nap, to relieve herself of further trouble. 
I ’ve had enough of this study — wish that stylish 
mother would move her seat behind me so I 
could n’t see her any more. I will keep my eyes 
on my own side of the car. 

“ There are so many indifferent-looking men 
over here, some evidently of foreign extraction, 
some American, but I see none that I feel like 
singling out as a special study. Beyond them is 
a dear old fat lady who has a little boy with her, 
grandson perhaps. I know that she is kind and 


A JOURNEY TO THE SPRINGS. II 

good-natured by the very quick way she turns 
about and moves her plump big hands and looks 
this side and that. Now she has pulled out her 
lunch-basket and told the little fellow to help 
himself, and chicken, biscuit, and cake are flying 
fast. He is not afraid to look around either, and 
there is love and confidence in his eyes when 
they are fixed upon his grandmother’s face. 
There is no style about the dear old fat lady, 
and her collar — why, she has none on, only a 
piece of black ribbon tied around her large, 
creased neck, and her dress is dingy and well- 
worn ; but I do n’t care, my heart runs out in 
love to her, for I know that she is good and 
motherly.” 

For some time Olive Greyson kept up a study 
of people’s backs and made a mental inventory 
of traits of character. At length, nothing stri- 
king presenting itself, in a half-dreamy condi- 
tion she viewed the world without and within, 
when the monotonous clatter of the cars and 
puff of the engine lulled her to sleep. Re- 
freshed by her nap and lunch, the afternoon was 
spent in fresh observations and new discoveries. 
Not many changes had been made among the 
passengers ; the dear old fat lady and mother of 
pretty flaxen-hair were still there ; but as night 
approached the car began to fill fast. Seeing 
the rush of travel, the cross mother secured a 


12 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


seat in front of her, stretched the child upon it, 
then filled the seat beside herself with a lunch- 
basket and wraps in a shawl-strap. Some of the 
men threw themselves across two seats, and 
though it was early for bedtime, feigned sleep 
and did not stir when there were fresh arrivals. 
A few sat up and made room for new-comers, 
and so far every one had been accommodated ; 
but presently a young lady entered and walked 
down the aisle in search of a seat. Her father 
had been compelled to give her a hurried kiss 
within the car door, as the train remained but a 
moment at this station, and turn her over to the 
care of the conductor. Our dear old fat lady 
immediately took her little grandson upon her 
very limited lap and motioned the young lady to 
the seat by her side, which was gladly accepted. 
The conductor protested and said he would 
make the selfish men occupy but one seat, but 
the old lady laughed and replied, 

“ Do n’t wake them ; the world would be bet- 
ter off if they slept on for ever.” 

Hearing this, a young man in the seat be- 
hind sprang up, rubbed his eyes and stretched, 
as though he had been asleep a long, long time, 
and said, 

“Oh did you wish a seat, miss? Here is 
one by me.” 

The proffered seat was accepted. The little 


A JOURNEY TO THE SPRINGS. 1 3 

boy was laid upon the cushion again, the old 
lady drew a sigh of relief, and everything lapsed 
into silence ; but it was only for a few moments, 
for the next comer was an elderly woman, and 
the child’s place was given up to her, while he 
was crowded upon the floor at their feet, his 
only bed and pillow an old shawl. At midnight 
a crippled old man got on board and hobbled up 
and down the aisle, and this time every seat was 
honestly filled. The conductor looked this way 
and that, and approaching a strong, healthy 
young man, said, 

“Will you be kind enough, sir, to give up 
your seat to this lame old man ? Some one will 
be compelled to stand for a short time.” 

Whereupon the strong, healthy young man 
touched his pocket and said gruffly, 

“ I ’ve paid for my seat, sir.” 

Olive thought, “ What if a gold chain does 
dangle from his pocket and a diamond flash 
upon his finger, could anything make that man 
a gentleman ?” 

Up sprang our old lady, who said, as she 
scrambled over the little boy at her feet, 

“ I don’t lay any claim to being a gentleman, 
Mr. Conductor, but I make some claim to being 
a woman, and no woman can sit and see a crip- 
pled old man stand while she has a comfortable 
seat to give him. Here, my friend, take my 


H 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


seat here ; it ’s rather crowded, but it ’s better 
than none, and I hope you will enjoy it. I shall 
enjoy standing up and looking down on these 
would-be gentlemen who can sit and see an old 
man begging for a seat, and he a cripple at 
that.” 

Immediately several men arose and offered 
the old lady their seats, but she indignantly re- 
fused them all and took her stand in the aisle. 
Dr. and Mrs. Greyson had given up their chil- 
dren’s seats. Dr. Greyson holding George, Mrs. 
Greyson May, both fast asleep, so they could do 
nothing. Olive was fully awake to the situation 
of affairs, for she had been studying the passen- 
gers near her for some time and had scored them 
down by her own standard, and some were low 
indeed. Scarcely had the old lady filled the aisle 
when Olive sprang towards her and said, 

“ I claim to be a woman too, my good friend, 
a much younger woman than you, so please let 
the old gentleman occupy my seat and you keep 
your own. I shall be glad to stand.” 

After some persuasion the old lady resumed 
her seat and Olive conducted the lame man to 
her own and with flashing eyes took her stand 
at the arm. of her father’s seat and stood erect. 
All the men were awake now ; some offered 
their seats, which were rejected, and all seemed 
restless, while the young man with the golden 


A JOURNEY TO THE SPRINGS. 1 5 

chain twisted it around his fingers in evident 
discomfiture. Not all of the men in that long 
car were devoid of chivalry ; they had only left 
the gentleman at home and now personated only 
the selfish trave‘'ler. 

It was but an hour that Olive stood, and then 
several passengers leaving, she had her choice of 
seats. An old lady, hugging a black bottle, took 
the seat in front of Olive, and, after looking 
around for some time as though uneasy, began 
conversation. Clutching hold of the arm of her 
seat, while she turned her head to talk, she ex- 
claimed, 

‘‘ This is just awful ! I tell you it ’s danger- 
ous to be flying along so, and of a dark night 
too. Why, how can they see which way to go ? 
They might run against something, and then 
what would become of us, sure enough ? I de- 
clare, I wish I was off this thing. These en- 
gines are the dangerestest things I ever saw. 
Look at that now, plunging and squirming! 
I shall be thrown out of this window directly ; 
and now — goodness ! we shall turn over, tilting 
down so, I know we shall, with all these folks on 
top of us 1” 

Olive could scarcely repress a smile at the 
old lady’s simplicity, but she checked it as she 
asked, 

“ Is this your first ride on a train, ma’am ?” 


i6 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“ No, second, and if ever I do get off alive, I 
know I ’ll never get on another. It takes all my 
time to hold on ; I can’t talk much ; wish I 
could.” 

“ You need n’t hold on, ma’am. Suppose you 
just sit back and give yourself up to the motion 
of the car; you’ll enjoy it after you get accus- 
tomed to it.” 

“ But, child, it ’s dangerous to be flying along 
so, and they told me at the station there was a 
river not many miles off. I tell you what, we ’ll 
land right in the middle of it if they a’n’t more 
careful, for it ’s a powerful dark night.” 

“ We ’ve passed the river, ma’am.” 

“ Have we ? How d’ ye know ?” 

“ I saw it through my window.” 

“ Well, I do feel better to know it. Just see 
that now, did you ever see such pitching about ? 
first to one side and then t’ other ! I just know 
I shall never get home safe to my old man in 
the world.” 

“ Where do you live, ma’am ? Are you going 
far?’* 

No, child, I ’m glad to say I a’n’t, leastways 
not on these cars. You see I live in South 
Carolina on a nice farm, far from these railroad- 
tracks I ’m glad to say, and I had a neighbor, 
Mandy Jelks, who had also a farm close to ours. 
Sam Jelks died of the fever last summer, and 


A JOURNEY TO THE SPRINGS. 1/ 

Mandy and my old man looked after her place 
after that. But ’twas lonesome work without 
Sam, I tell you it was. After a while Mandy 
was took with the fever too and 1 nursed her as 
best I could, but she died and left a little baby 
about one year old. I promised her when she 
died that I would take that little darling and 
put it in her ma’s hands myself. I have done it. 
Mandy was buried last Thursday ; so Friday I 
started for her folks in North Georgia to fulfil 
my promise. I was scared to death of the cars, 
but my old man said it was all right, and he has 
never fooled me yet ; so I took my seat mighty 
uncertain like, and with the poor baby crying 
most all the way, I got there and fulfilled my 
promise, for I put that baby right in its grand- 
ma’s arms with these very hands of mine, (Just 
see that now ! I declare we shall be killed out- 
right!) Many tears were shed ; I don’t say but 
what some fell from my own eyes ; but it ’s all 
over now and I ’m on my way home, if I ever do 
get there. Now you see my old man was born 
in North Georgia, and I Ve heard him tell often 
of the spring on the old farm and how sweet the 
water was ; that there was no water in all South 
Carolina that could compare with it. So when I 
got to the station near the old farm, all unknown 
to him I took a hack and went five miles to fill 
this bottle, and I ’m carrying it to him from the 


A Seeming Tiille. 


2 


8 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


old Spring under the chestnut-tree where he so 
often played. 'Twont be so cool as ’twas when 
first I filled it, but it will be sweet to him and he 
wont care about its coolness. My ! I ’m that 
tired I do n’t know what to do, bouncing up and 
down in that old hack all by myself for ten 
miles ; but I stopped at the last station to see an 
old friend yesterday, and now I ’m on my way 
home.” 

“ Wont you try to sleep, ma’am ?” 

“La, child, I wish I could! but there’s the 
bottle and here ’s these cars flying to destruction 
and carrying us along too. Why, I ’m scared to 
close my eyes.” 

“You need not be afraid, ma’am,” Olive said 
soothingly ; “ you are just as safe when asleep 
as when awake.” 

Then arranging her shawl for the old lady’s 
pillow, she said, 

“ Now put your head down here and take a 
good nap, and you will feel so much better. I 
will hold the bottle for you till you wake, if you 
will trust me.” 

“How kind you are, child! Yes, I’d trust 
anything to you, and here ’s the bottle to hold. 
But maybe you are sleepy yourself, a’n’t you?” 

“ No, ma’am, I ’ve had my nap, so now you 
just shut your eyes and take a good sleep.” 

“ Honey, will you hold my bonnet too ? I 


A JOURNEY TO THE SPRINGS. 


19 


see the men put their hats in those basket things 
up there, but I ’m not going to trust my Sunday 
bonnet in any such place ; it might go on an ex- 
ploring expedition out of the window. Ha ! ha ! 
ha ! and what would my old man say when he 
saw me coming home bareheaded? My! but 
he’d think — there’s no telling what he would 
think. Will you hold this along with the bottle 
too?” 

Olive took the dingy black, old-fashioned 
bonnet, with its quilling of lace inside, in her 
hands very tenderly and laid it on the cushion 
by her side and congratulated herself that the 
old lady was sleeping, but in a moment the gray 
head popped up and she asked anxiously, 

I just can’t shut my eyes without you prom- 
ise you ’ll wake me up if these cars run off the 
track ; will you, honey ?” 

Olive promised, and then the head sank back 
and nothing more was seen of it for an hour. 
The train stopped, passengers got out and pas- 
sengers got in, but the old lady slept on. 

Across the aisle now sat a woman with five 
little children, one a baby in arms and the eldest 
about eight years of age. They were going to 
see '‘grandma” and “grandpa.” Olive caught 
that much, and she saw their eyes shining 
brightly at the happy times they were expecting. 
That they were poor children was evident from 


20 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


their clothes and bare feet, but this did not keep 
them from having joyful little hearts. One 
child, less timid than the rest, crossed over to 
Olive’s seat and began conversation. Olive 
opened a small box of candy in her satchel and 
held up a little pink candy rat. Never had the 
child seen such a wondrously beautiful thing, 
and, assuring herself that it was not alive, she 
took it carefully by the string tail and with ex- 
clamations of delight held it up for the admira- 
tion of the others. Such laughter and shouts 
rang through the car, each child begging to 
hold it ! Olive searched her box, and, to her 
joy, found four more rats, two white and two 
pink, and handed them over to the little ones. 
No gift of gold would have given them such 
pleasure as these candy rats. At length their 
station was reached, and with smiles and good- 
bys f®r Olive they left the train, and the last she 
saw, as the cars went whizzing by, were five rats 
dangling in the air before the face of a laughing 
old gentleman. 

Soon the station was reached where the old 
lady was to change cars, and Olive touched her 
shoulder gently ; but she sprang up in alarm, 
crying out, 

“Are we off ! are we off !” 

Olive quieted her fears, handed her her bon- 
net and then the bottle, receiving her heartfelt 


A JOURNEY TO THE SPRINGS. 21 

thanks in return. In spite of his hurry she 
made the impatient conductor wait while she 
added some more thanks to those already given 
Olive, then a loud kiss with the words, 

“ Honey, if ever you do come down my way 
be sure to come right to my house ; I and m.y 
old man will be powerful glad to see you. 
Good-by.” 

Then she got out, and though Olive thanked 
her for her warm invitation, she smiled, remem- 
bering that the old lady had given her neither 
her name nor place of residence. 

For nearly twenty-four hours Olive Greyson 
had been studying character ; had she done any 
character-building herself.^ 


22 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


CHAPTER II. 

AN APOLOGY. 

By night our party had reached their desti- 
nation, the Springs of Virginia. Dr. Grey- 

son had already secured a cottage by letter, and 
as they drove up to the hotel, under the glow of 
electric lights the grounds seemed fairyland. 
After an elegant supper and a cool drink of 
mineral water, worn out with the fatigues of 
travel our party were soon in deep sleep. Bright 
and early the children were up and out, admiring 
everything their eyes rested upon. Olive sat in 
her room awaiting the announcement of break- 
fast, for she too had risen early, and one of the 
first articles she had removed from her trunk 
was her Bible. As her custom was every morn- 
ing, so now she read the passages connected 
with her Sunday-school lesson, then a chapter, 
her daily lesson, and then she placed it upon the 
little centre table. Approaching the window, 
she saw young and old going for a morning 
drink at some favorite spring. Mostly they 
were pleasure-seekers, rich, fashionable people, 
elegantly dressed in elaborate morning toilets, 
young men and young ladies laughing and chat- 


AN APOLOGY. 


23 


tmg merrily, planning for the day’s diversion as 
though their one thought was to while the hours 
away. It was a novel, fascinating scene to Olive, 
and she could not help wondering whether in all 
that gay company she would find a young conge- 
nial friend, and in her heart she hoped so. She 
was neither gay nor fashionable ; her dresses 
were neatly fitting and sensible, but neither 
gaudy in colors nor fabulous in price, and not 
once did she look upon the costly costumes and 
gay flying ribbons before her and feel dissatis- 
fied with the wardrobe her own trunk contained. 

Breakfast announced, they repaired to the 
dining-room, securing a table to themselves ; 
and, to tell the truth, they were somewhat 
shocked to hear the loud laughter and slang 
phrases which passed across the room from table 
to table among some of those fashionable people. 
A grand picnic had been planned, she learned, 
by some of the young people to a neighboring 
mountain, and soon the rumble of wagons was 
heard on the grounds, hilarious voices shouted 
aloud to each other, and the party left. The day 
was more quiet after the gay company were 
gone, and the Greysons thoroughly enjoyed it. 
Olive took a magazine she had found upon the 
parlor-table, and selecting a lovely shaded spot, 
where was a rustic seat close to the banks of a 
clear stream, she gave herself up to the pleasure 


24 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


of the morning-. George and May were ram- 
bling everywhere in quest of new beauties, and 
Dr. and Mrs. Greyson were enjoying their free- 
dom from care and an out-door life, making 
friends here and there, breathing in the delicious 
mountain air, and drinking freely of the icy cold 
water which poured in abundance from number- 
less springs. One might well thank God for life 
in such a spot as this, so beautiful, strength-im- 
parting, and health-bringing. It was more lovely 
than Olive had even dreamed, and over the 
grand scenery of wooded mountain and fertile 
dell her eye would wander in admiration, abso- 
lutely refusing to be chained for any length of 
time to the pages before her. 

Two days had passed, and yet Olive had met 
none of the gay people at the vSprings. Yet she 
was happy with her family, her thoughts, and 
her books for companionship. She knew that 
the young people spent their time in the parlors 
in the mornings either playing cards or engaged 
in frivolous conversation ; in the afternoons she 
knew they slept until the sun was nearly down, 
then indulged in walks over the grounds in 
beautiful attire ; and later, in costly ball-dresses, 
they danced the night away. She had no desire 
to know these women who wasted their time 
laughing, dancing, and flirting. 

Once, when she had been reading for some 


AN APOLOGY. 


25 


time in her favorite work, she raised her eyes 
as a gentleman crossed the rustic bridge that 
spanned the stream at her feet. His back was 
turned towards her, and something familiar 
about him made her start. 

“ Surely,” she thought, “ I have seen those 
shoulders before. How funny that I should rec- 
ognize his back. Oh it is my old gentleman 
from Tokio ! His coat and collar are all right 
now, both fresh and nice. How did he come 
here, I wonder, so far from home ! But how do 
I know where his home is ? I wish I could see 
his blue eyes again. Oh there !” 

Scarcely had the thought found its way into 
Olive’s brain when the old gentleman turned 
his head and the blue eyes were fastened upon 
her. It was but a moment’s glance, and then he 
recrossed the bridge and walked straight up to 
her, saying, 

“ I thought I knew you, and now I am sure of 
it, for you have such a trick of looking away 
when people look at you, as though you did n’t 
know it at all. Do you think that fair, square, 
and honest, miss ?” 

Perhaps you mistake difhdence for duplicity, 

sir.” 

“ Perhaps so ; I am willing to think so any- 
how, would rather think so, in fact. What are 
you doing here, miss?” 


20 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


The same, I suppose, that you are, sir,” and 
Olive could not help being amused at the novel 
situation in which she found herself. At her 
answer the old gentleman laughed heartily, 
shook his head, and said, 

“ I came to meet my wife and daughter ; did 
you come for the same reason ?” 

“Well, no, sir,” and Olive laughed merrily. 
“ Having neither wife nor daughter to meet, I 
must confess that our reasons for coming to the 
Springs are different.” 

“ I wont press that question any further. But 
see here, miss, you insulted me on the Air Line 
the other day, and I have sought you out to de- 
mand ‘ honorable satisfaction.’ ’ 

“ Will you please explain the nature of the 
insult I offered you, sir ? I am sure it was unin- 
tentional on my part.” 

“ You said I was no gentleman, did not even 
know the definition of the word ‘chivalry.’ ” 

“ Upon what occasion did I say this, sir?” 

The old gentleman’s blue eyes twinkled as 
he replied, 

“ On the occasion of your journey the other 
day. You said it plainly that hour you stood 
up in the cars, just the very longest hour of 
my life. Why, it seemed to me it never would 
end. If my baggage hadn’t been checked for 
way up the road, I would have left the train, 


AN APOLOGY. 


27 


making believe it had been my intention all 
along. But that would have been a story, and I 
do believe I am a truthful man if I am not a 
gentleman ; and then, besides, I might have lost 
my trunk. I wished a thousand times I was out 
of that old car ; every other man in it wished the 
same. What in the name of sense did you want 
to insult us all for anyhow?” 

“ I am not sure that the insult was on my 
side at all, sir.” 

“ You are not, hey ? Well, I would just like 
you to show me — but no, I wont ask it. Ha ! 
ha! ha!” 

Please do n’t let us speak of it any more,” 
said Olive, looking distressed. 

“ I am sure that / am the one who ought to 
want to drop it ; but the truth is, I am glad to 
say, I was asleep when the whole thing hap- 
pened, but waked up soon after, and when it was 
explained to me by my confrlre^ and I heard 
you positively decline any gentleman’s — man’s — 
seat, I felt guilty, for I was in the crowd and had 
to bear the stigma with the rest. I am very sure 
that car full of gentle — no, men, I mean — will 
never forget that lesson, that object lesson — a 
beautiful woman giving her seat to an old crip- 
ple, and she standing, towering above and look- 
ing down upon us. I didn’t enjoy my ride after 
that, and the truth is, the retrospect is not very 


28 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


agreeable now. How long will you remain at 
the Springs, miss ?” 

“ Perhaps a month, sir ; it may be longer. It 
is so delightful here, I hope papa may conclude 
to remain throughout the summer.” 

“ May I ask your father’s name ?” 

“ Certainly, sir ; Dr. Greyson of L , Geor- 

gia.” 

“ And yours?” 

“ Olive, sir. Olive Greyson.” 

“Well, perhaps you don’t want to know 
mine, but I am going to tell you anyhow. Mine 
is T. K. Bell, of Alabama. Now we have re- 
versed the order and exchanged cards last. My 
wife and daughter are in New York, and will 
perhaps meet me here next week. I hope we 
shall become well acquainted before we leave.” 

“ I hope so indeed, sir.” 

Some one calling “ Judge Bell,” he arose and 
left. 

“ This, then,” thought Olive, “ is Judge Bell 
of Alabama, my old gentleman from Tokio with 
the broad dusty shoulders, crumpled, soiled col- 
lar, and kind blue eyes. You cannot always 
judge people by their backs, not on the cars at 
least.” 


AN INTRODUCTION. 


29 


CHAPTER III. 

AN INTRODUCTION. 

A YOUNG man of my acquaintance, Miss 
Olive, wishes to make an apology to you. ” 

“ To me, Judge Bell ? For what ?” 

“ He will explain himself. I must not antici- 
pate. May I introduce him to you now? I 
would not ask it did I not consider him a suita- 
ble companion for my own daughter.” 

‘‘ Thank you, sir, for your consideration. Yes, 
sir, whenever it suits your convenience I shall 
be pleased to meet your friend.” 

Walking over to a group of young people. 
Judge Bell beckoned to a handsome young man, 
and together they approached the rustic seat 
upon which Olive generally sat when enjoying 
a book. The face was entirely strange to Olive, 
and the casual glance she gave as they ap- 
proached, conversing as they came, persuaded 
her that there was intelligence blended with 
refinement and true nobility of soul expressed 
in every feature. Was it any wonder that this 
simple village girl should feel a sensation of 
pleasure when about to be introduced to an ele- 
gant young man, especially when the introduc- 
tion was sought by him ? 


30 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Miss Greyson, my friend Mr. Manning,” 
Judge Bell simply said, and turned and walked 
away. 

As Mr. Manning took a seat upon a large 
rock near he said, 

“ Miss Greyson, I thought people came to the 
Springs for recreation and pleasure, but your in- 
separable companion seems to be a book.” 

“ Is a book, Mr. Manning, incompatible with 
recreation and pleasure ?” 

“ By no means ; yet one pleasure becomes 
monotonous when long and continuously pur- 
sued, do you not find it so ? Human nature calls 
for variety, and it seems to me it is well to let 
our pleasures during our summer trips be en- 
tirely different from those we have at home. 
Reading, I see, is your pastime ; then why not 
deviate now and let books alone for the sum- 
mer?” 

“ What would you advise instead, Mr. Man- 
ning ?” 

“Something I am persuaded you never in- 
dulge in at home, that would have the spice of 
variety if nothing else. Join that company of 
young girls yonder, talk nonsense, and let the 
bov;' be unstrung. The mind at tension loses its 
elasticity ; do you not think so ?” 

“Yes, sir; but I am in no danger from this 
cause, for my mind has never been tightly 


AN INTRODUCTION. 31 

strung, and I am sure there is nothing in this 
volume to increase the tension, since it is only 
a romance founded upon history.” 

“ You asked me. Miss Grey son, Avhat I would 
advise instead of reading. I have a good substi- 
tute at hand, for I came to ask that you will 
join our party in a ramble for wild flowers to- 
morrow.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Manning ; it will give me 
great pleasure to become one of the ram- 
blers.” 

“ Our expectation is to start very early, take 
our dinners, and have a picnic in the woods.” 

“ That will be perfectly delightful.” 

You are not such a bookworm then as to be 
afraid of the long walk this excursion will in- 
volve ?” 

“ Oh no, indeed ; I am a country girl, ac- 
customed to long rambles and enjoy them.” 

“ I thought Judge Bell said you were from 
the town of L , Ga.” 

“ That is my home, sir, yet it is but a little 
village, where every house insists upon being 
surrounded by a miniature farm ; so we are coun- 
try people after all.” 

“ One week ago to-day, I believe, you were 
on the Air Line, were you not?” 

“ Yes, sir. Just one week ago to-day we left 
home. How short the week has seemed !’* 


32 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Without noticing her last sentence, he went 
on : 

“ I was a passenger on the same train myself, 
I regret to say.” 

Olive looked up with surprise ; but just then 
he gave a twirl to his watch-chain, and the dia- 
mond upon his little finger made her start. 
Here was the very young man who had sat 
some distance in front of her and for whom she 
had felt such contempt when he replied to the 
conductor, “ I have paid for my seat, sir.” She 
had not seen his face, had only noticed his habit 
of twirling his watch-key and the hashing of the 
diamond ring. Olive turned sick at heart, for 
here was another she had reproved upon that 
memorable ride, and perhaps too hastily. 

He went on : 

My sister has been here several weeks, but 
I only arrived yesterday. As soon as I saw you. 
Miss Greyson, I recognized in you the young 
lady whose tender feeling for the aged and 
afflicted, whose warm womanly heart, and whose 
utter and just contempt for selfishness, prompt- 
ed her to perform a brave, independent act that 
will be a lesson to me all my life. I thank you 
for what you did, even though I and every other 
man upon the train went down below zero in 
your estimation. While I thank you. Miss Grey- 
son, I want to say one word of apology for the 


AN INTRODUCTION. 


33 


thoughtless act of which I was guilty ; and I feel 
that to you, and you alone, this apology is due. 
I do not excuse myself, I do not ask you to ex- 
cuse me, and yet, in extenuation of my fault, I 
want to say one word. A man travelling as 
much as I am compelled to do is often need- 
lessly called upon to give up his seat in the cars, 
and, excuse me for saying so, to ladies who 
sometimes demand two seats, one for them- 
selves, the other for baskets and bundles, when 
one is all that they can claim by right of pur- 
chase. In a business point of view, is not a man 
who purchases a ticket entitled to a seat? He 
certainly is, yet he is often called upon to stand 
long distances, and his patience is sorely tried 
during the travelling season ; and this may occur 
in one train after another. What is the solution 
of this difficulty ? Must the conductor refuse 
admittance to all who cannot be accommodated 
with seats? Were this the rule of travel the 
public would feel very uncertain, and an urgent 
trip might be postponed for weeks, perhaps in- 
definitely. It is then the conductor’s place to 
receive all who come. What now is the travel- 
ler’s duty ? Evidently to pay for one seat and 
to occupy it. ‘ First come first served ’ is the 
rule in ordinary life, and in the case of railway 
transportation it should be the rule too. If the 
train is full when I enter I must expect to stand. 
3 


A Seeming Trifle. 


34 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Am I feeble and afflicted, it is my misfortune, 
but I have no right to demand of another what 
is really his, what he has just made his by pur- 
chase.” 

“ You speak, Mr. Manning, of ‘ the rule in 
ordinary life.’ Would this hold good in Chris- 
tian ethics? You speak too of the ‘rule of 
travel but is there not a ‘ Golden Rule ’ which 
distinctly defines the course we should pursue 
towards our neighbor, a rule whose demands are 
more imperative than any other ? By this rule 
is it not right for us to sacrifice our own comfort 
for another’s, not for a selfish woman, but for a 
poor afflicted creature to whom standing would 
be pain? Excuse me, sir, for deciding against 
your system of ethics, but I cannot agree that it 
is the part of business, humanity, or Christianity 
for one to keep his or her seat when an afflicted 
person stands, even though that seat be paid for 
a thousand times over. I am truly sorry for the 
occurrence on our trip, for I would not inten- 
tionally wound or reprove another where my 
duty is not concerned, though, were the same 
thing to occur again, I should do again as I 
did upon that occasion. I freely confess, how- 
ever, that I erred myself in refusing the seats 
offered me by nearly every gentleman upon the 
train. It may have seemed that I preferred to 
.stand and enjoy the discomfort of the gentlemen 


AN INTRODUCTION. 


35 


passengers. After I had accomplished my end 
I know now that I should have slipped into the 
first proffered seat and kept out of sight, since 
my position was a standing rebuke to those be- 
fore me ; but really I could not bear the idea of 
accepting for myself what was not offered to one 
who needed it more than I.” 

‘‘ Miss Greyson, I admired your independent 
action, and now I admire your independent 
opinion. You are certainly right. I have been 
trying to defend a course which I felt was in- 
defensible, to justify an act that was unjustifi- 
able. My conscience had long since decided 
against me, but my reason still struggled and 
tried to stand upon a platform which in my 
heart I knew was untenable. That ‘ Golden 
Rule,’ Miss Greyson, sweeps every other before 
it. We may talk learnedly of the duty of the 
conductor and traveller, but we are all neigh- 
bors, and this rule defines our duty to each other 
as such. As surgeons grow callous to suffering 
since they see so much, for the same reason a 
man constantly upon the cars becomes indiffer- 
ent to the discomfort of others. We are quite 
inclined to shift all responsibility upon the con- 
ductor, to persuade ourselves that there are 
plenty of seats farther on, to assume that con- 
ductors are disposed to impose upon young men, 
and that, unless they assert their own rights, 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


36 

nobody else will. Selfishness rules supreme 
upon the trains now-a-days, and it is delightful 
when one finds an exceptional case. Do you 
ever study character, Miss Grey son ?” 

‘‘Yes, sir, I love* the study, for I find it amu- 
sing and instructive.” 

“ Were you studying character upon the Air 
Line that day ?” 

“ I confess I was, Mr. Manning. I had heard 
-that there was no better place for the study of 
human nature than in travelling ; so, while I 
could not study faces, I was studying actions.” 

“Alas for me!” exclaimed the young man. 
“ Is it possible for you. Miss Greyson, to attribute 
that one act of my life to thoughtlessness and 
not to innate selfishness and disregard for suf- 
fering^” 

“ Since I have become acquainted with you, 
Mr. Manning, and heard your expression of 
opinion, I find it easy to attribute it to thought- 
lessness.” 

“Thanks to your generosity and nobleness, 
Miss Greyson, which finds it easy to forgive 
faults in others though it allows no excuse for 
what you call your own. Rest assured there 
was not a traveller on the Air Line that day 
that did not cringe under your gentle reproof 
and mentally resolve that he would be lacking 
upon no future occasion. From this time all the 


AN INTRODUCTION. • 37 

lame, halt, and withered shall have seats enough 
and to spare wherever I am. 

“ I hear my sister calling me. Please do not 
forget our engagement for to-morrow morning 
at sunrise. Each gentleman will, with the land- 
lord’s help, provide a lunch-basket, so you need 
give yourself no concern upon this subject. 
With your permission. Miss Greyson, I will call 
at your cottage for you to-morrow morning.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Manning ; it will give me 
great pleasure to accompany you.” 


38 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


CHAPTER IV. 

READING WORKS OF FICTION. 

The next morning, just as the sun was peep- 
ing above the horizon, a group of girls stood 
upon the hotel steps, and from the company 
could be heard the words in a slightly satirical 
tone, 

“ Sweet simplicity ! unsophisticated country 
lass ! beauty unadorned ! I declare, Clara, your 
brother has very peculiar taste. I am sure I 
have been at the Springs every summer for 
years, but I have never seen that girl before. 
She does not belong to the fashionable world, 
that is evident from her dress.” 

Douglass says she is sensible, remarkably 
intellectual, and altogether out of the common 
run.” 

“ ‘ Out of the common run ’ indeed ! I declare, 
men are always on the lookout for something 
new, and are as pleased when they have found 
it as a child is with a new toy. ‘ Give me some- 
thing I never saw before,’ cries the child, and 
that is the cry of the men of this day and gen- 
eration.” 

“ That girl has a lovely face,” said another; 


READING WORKS OF FICTION. 


39 

“ it is bright and fresh, nobody can deny that ; 
and as to her dresses, they fit perfectly and are 
stylish if not costly. She is independent, too, 
for she finds her own pleasures, has never once 
essayed to join us, and indeed seems scarcely 
conscious of our presence. Another thing I 
have noticed, those who want her company must 
seek it. You can see that she is intellectual by 
the magazines she selects.” 

“Oh pshaw!” exclaimed the first speaker, “it 
is not much strain for one to hold a magazine 
before one’s eyes. If I were to pose for a men- 
tal photograph I think I would select that 
graceful attitude, where art would be mistaken 
for artlessness and listlessness for intellect. A 
girl in gray, with a hat trimmed prettily in gray, 
a bunch of bright flowers at her waist, in that 
beautiful spot she has selected, gray shadow 
everywhere, the two bright things as high lights, 
her face and flowers, is a nice study for any 
artist. See, she has walked out upon the steps 
of their cottage ; suppose we go over and intro- 
duce ourselves.” 

“No, let us wait,” said Clara Manning. 
“ There is Douglass going for her now. I am 
glad she will join us in our ramble to-day, for I 
believe we shall find her an acquisition. They 
are coming, and here are the other young men 
too.” 


40 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Introductions followed. Olive Greyson had 
all of her life been accustomed to good society ; 
besides, she inherited a refined, gentle nature 
and a love for all things good and pure. There 
was no embarrassment in her manner when she 
was thrown with more fashionable people than 
herself, but she was dignified and self-possessed, 
though perfectly affable. It did not once occur 
to her to be ashamed of the heavy dress, broad- 
brimmed hat, thick-soled shoes, and stout gloves 
she wore, while the others were attired in thin 
gay dresses and slippered feet. Suitability was 
what she consulted, and good sense had di- 
rected her apparel, which was most evident 
when, upon their return, many found them- 
selves with torn, draggled skirts and wet feet, 
while she was as trim and neat as when she 
started out. Her exclamations of delight at the 
lovely ferns that met her in damp, shady nooks, 
the beautiful fields of daisies and wild orchids 
growing here and there, besides other flowers 
too numeroms to classify, were refreshing. Her 
acquaintance with the nature of poisonous plants 
and vines was of great use, and her knowledge 
of botany and botanical names, while not dis- 
played for admiration, came out naturally and 
irresistibly. 

“ Sometimes I have thought,” Olive said to 
Mr. Manning, who walked by her side, “ that if 


READING WORKS OF FICTION. 4 1 

our beautiful field - flowers were collected and 
cultivated by some eminent florist, they might 
rival those of foreign nations. See this insig- 
nificant-looking orchid here ; what might it not 
become by cultivation ! Have you ever seen a 
conservatory of orchids, Mr. Manning?” 

“ We have a conservatory at home, Miss 
Greyson, but I am no connoisseur in floriculture. 
Here is Clara. Clara, have we any orchids in 
our conservatory? Miss Greyson inquired if I 
had ever seen any, and I had to confess my 
ignorance.” 

No, Douglass,” his sister called back , ‘‘ our 
conservatory contains only the commoner kinds 
of plants, geraniums, japonicas, heliotropes, and 
roses.” 

“ Is the orchid a flower. Miss Greyson, or is it 
a class of flowers?” Mr. Manning inquired. 

“ It is quite a large family, Mr. Manning. 
Once I was in a conservatory which contained a 
large number of mixed orchids. I shall never 
forget my sensations as I gazed around me. It 
seemed tohne that I was in a museum of butter- 
flies and birds, and that they were all about to 
take wing and fly away. One was a lovely white, 
resembling a dove with downy pinions spread, 
and another was of a golden yellow, barred with 
brown, and it had even the antennae and pro- 
boscis of a magnificent butterfly poising for 


42 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


longer flight. These flowers looked like living 
things, not of petals and sap, but breathing, 
throbbing wuth the joyous life of winged crea- 
tures pausing for rest. The florist told me that 
there were many species of the genus orchid, 
and many varieties of each family. Some are 
raised in cool greenhouses, some in temperate, 
and some in tropical greenhouses. Some were 
gathered in Asia, some in South America, and I 
think some among the mountains of Europe. 
The conservatory in which I stood I was told 
cost $500,000. Yet these are the wild-flowers of 
these foreign lands, clinging to dangerous cliffs 
and overhanging precipices, and are collected at 
great risk to life. Then they are brought to our 
country and cultivated till they become the 
very perfection of flowers.” . 

“ My mother would have listened to your 
description of these beautiful flowers with de- 
light. I wonder we have known nothing of 
them. We really must order some for our own 
conservatory.” 

“They are costly things, Mr. Manning, a 
small root ranging from $5 to $10, and some- 
times reaching $5,000; and when it is put in its 
bed of rocks and moss it vibrates long between 
life and death, and often, after the tenderest 
nursing, your little fortune crumbles back to dust 
and the place thereof is known no more for ever.” 


READING WORKS OF FICTION. 43 

“ Then,” said Mr. Manning, “ I will leave 
them in the care of the florist ; but I shall avail 
myself of the opportunity to visit the first orchid 
conservatory I am near, and shall enjoy it more 
after your beautiful description.” 

As this conversation was going on Olive and 
Mr. Manning were climbing a rugged pathway, 
aiming for a bold, rocky projection midway up 
the little mountain. Graceful firs drooped their 
freighted boughs all around, while stately and 
strong, tall pines towered, making the dark 
background for the tenderer greens of dogwood 
and sycamore, while tangled vines ran riotous, 
whose blossoms, like jets of flame, leaped from 
the darker coloring. A sweep of luxuriant val- 
ley lay beneath, and through the meadows a 
stream, like a silver ribbon, threaded its way, 
while the lowing of cattle and tinkle of bells 
added life to the beautiful scene. 

“ How perfectly lovely !” exclaimed Olive. 

“ It is, indeed,” replied Mr. Manning. “ I do 
not think I have ever beheld a lovelier scene.” • 
Have you ever read ‘ Rasselas,’ Mr. Man- 
ning?” 

“ You are thinking of ‘ The Happy Valley,’ 
Miss Greyson, and in your imagination it lies 
before you.” 

“ No, that was Abyssinian, deeply secluded, 
shut in by gates of iron, and where the spacious 


44 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


halls were connected by private galleries or sub- 
terranean passages, where the columns had cavi- 
ties filled with treasures known only to the royal 
line, where Rasselas was miserable, and when 
asked the cause replied, ‘ That I know not what 
want is, is the cause of my complaint ; give me 
something to desire.’ What misery that must 
be!” 

To know no want?” 

“Yes, indeed. What a passive machine one 
must become whose every desire is anticipated!” 

Mr. Manning had begun to take out the 
contents of his basket, and Olive spread a table 
upon a large rock ; in this picturesque spot they 
ate their bountiful lunch. Continuing their 
conversation, Mr. Manning said, 

“ Speaking of ‘ Rasselas ’ reminded me that I 
interrupted your reading, the other day, a story 
which you said was founded upon historical fact. 
Do you not think the imagination is fettered 
when chained to facts ?” 

• “ Doubtless it is, Mr. Manning ; yet Scott and 

Miss Miihlbach are favorites of mine, and when 
I read them I feel that I am learning history 
and not wasting time, while this knowledge is 
conveyed through a very pleasant story of life 
in its various phases.” 

“ Do you feel then that you waste time when 
you read fiction purely imaginative?” 


READING WORKS OF FICTION. 45 

'‘Oh if I should dip into all the fiction of 
this class it would indeed be an enormous waste 
of time. This is in truth the age of fiction, for 
the press is flooded with works of this class, most 
of which will have an ephemeral existence — will 
live through one edition, then die and trouble 
the world no more. I cannot condemn all fic- 
tion which is, as you say, purely imaginative, 
for in the best works of this class there is often 
great creative genius displayed, and grand 
thoughts and well-pointed apothegms are often 
interwoven amid the beautiful fancy. I enjoy 
the grand thoughts ; I even enjoy the beautiful 
fancy.” 

“ You speak of the best books of this class ; 
how do you discover these unless you sift fiction 
generally. Miss Grey son ?” 

“ For answer, Mr. Manning, I will relate to 
you a little history. My mother’s mother was 
reared amid the gayety of Washington city. She 
frequented the theatre when Spencer H. Cone 
was one of the leading actors, and after he was 
converted and became a minister of the gospel, 
her admiration for his wonderful powers led her 
to attend his church. During one of the first 
meetings which Dr. Cone held, my grand- 
mother was converted, and she was baptized 
by him. Throughout his ministerial career 
I doubt whether he had a more devoted 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


46 

friend and ardent admirer, or a more conse- 
crated member in his church, than my grand- 
mother. 

“Taking a retrospect of her gay life, my 
grandmother saw much to regret’ and in her 
mind made solemn resolves for the future. 
Though still young, her place in the theatre and 
ballroom were for ever after vacant, her jewels 
were thrown into the mission-box, and from this 
time until the day of her death only a simple 
breastpin was ever worn. Possessing a ro- 
mantic, poetic nature, and feeling convinced 
that the reading of fiction had been an injury to 
her by giving her a false vie^v of life and its 
duties, she gave it up entirely. When my mo- 
ther was a young girl, grandmother talked long 
and seriously to her upon the subject of fiction 
and expressed the earnest desire that my mo- 
ther would never read a novel. No promise 
was exacted, but the expressed desire was suffi- 
cient. My mother was away at boarding-school 
for some time, and though yellow-backed litera- 
ture lay all around, even upon the table in her 
own room, yet neither at home nor away at 
school did she deviate from her mother’s washes. 
When my mother married my father she had 
read but one novel, and this was ‘Waverly.’ 
Grandmother consented to this through the in- 
tercession of a friend ; but my mother said the 


READING WORKS OF FICTION. 


47 


perusal gave lier no pleasure, since she felt that 
she read it under a protest. My father took a 
different view of reading. He brought home 
the best books of the best minds, and he and 
my mother read and commented upon them to- 
gether. Grandmother did not object now, and 
so the work went on. Even before I was old 
enough to have a thorough appreciation of good 
literature I was taken into the reading circle 
and we read together, and afterwards works 
which they had already read and approved were 
put into my hands for private perusal. I read 
nothing that my parents cannot recommend, 
but my happiest moments are spent reading 
with them, listening to their comments and 
criticisms and venturing a few myself. I have 
related to you a long story, Mr. Manning, but 
your question seemed to necessitate it. If all 
parents would take the trouble and pains to read 
for and with their children, fiction would soon 
be sifted to its dregs, and I am constrained to 
believe that only the best books of the best class 
would live, while all worthless literature would 
be entirely suppressed. The press would not 
issue unless books were bought, and no book 
would be purchased unless heartily approved by 
those into whose hands the training of young 
minds is committed. Do excuse me, Mr. Man- 
ning, for thrusting so mucn personal history 


48 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


upon you; but the subject is one which interests 
me deepl}^ and upon which I have expended 
much thought, so when you touched this string, 
you see, you had to endure a long vibration.” 

‘‘ I thank you indeed for relating this inter- 
esting history to me, Miss Greyson. I have been 
instructed and entertained, and feel that its reci- 
tal has answered my question perfectly. Since 
your grandmother tried the two extremes, your 
parents avoided both and struck the happy and 
true mean. Your father has certainly shown 
great wisdom and sound judgment in his man- 
agement of the troublesome question of fiction 
in the family, and I agree with you in believing 
that, were every parent to follow his example, 
literature would become a power for good in- 
stead of the poisonous food it often proves. You 
are fortunate indeed in possessing such parents. 
Miss Greyson, and the world would be richer and 
better were there more like them. Since we are 
upon this subject, tell me, please, what effect a 
good book has upon you ; in what condition of 
mind does it leave you?” 

“ I am not sure that the writer would feel 
complimented were he or she to hear my reply, 
Mr. Manning, but since you have asked me I 
will tell you. The books I consider best do not 
touch my mind so much as my heart. I finish 
such a book reluctantly, look back, read a page 


READING WORKS OF FICTION. 


49 


or two again, am sorry it is done, close the lid 
regretfully, lay it down upon the table, sit and 
think a few moments, then pick up life’s duties 
again wishing ‘Oh that I were only a better 
woman !’ ” 

Just at this juncture sounds of footsteps were 
heard approaching, while a complaining voice 
cried out, 

“ Oh dear ! My dress is torn into shreds, my 
face and my arms are blistered, and I am almost 
without shoes. I never could see the fun in ram- 
bling through slush and mud, brakes and briars, 
for a few common flowers, and I am sure I am 
farther from seeing it now than ever.” 

“ Oh !” exclaimed her companion, laughing, 
“ those trifles you mentioned are the perquisites 
of the occasion. Here, accept this alpenstock to 
aid you in surmounting these difficulties.” 

Discontented voices from below were heard 
clamoring to return, and Mr. Manning’s cousin 
called, 

“ Douglass, the motion has been put and car- 
ried that we return to the Springs. I ’m sorry to 
interrupt your pleasant tete-a-t^te, but if you will 
look to the southwest you will see a strong argu- 
ment in favor of the motion.” 

Mr. Manning arose, stepped upon a project- 
ing rock, and saw a leaden mass of clouds rising 
steadily and determinedly. 


A Seeming Ti ifle. 


4 


50 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


'‘Oil I am sorry,” he exclaimed, “but that 
cloud determines our course. We must turn 
our footsteps homeward, and that speedily too. 
Come, Miss Grey son, we must hurry, for my um- 
brella will be poor protection against this storm.” 

Scarcely had they reached the valley when 
the rumble of distant thunder w^as heard, and 
then the roar of rising wind and rush of coming 
rain through the forests. The little company, 
laden with field-flowers, ran for nearly a mile, 
when a few drops falling announced that the 
storm was upon them. Fortunately a wagon 
which had deposited its load of chickens and 
vegetables at the Springs came rattling down 
the road, homeward bound. The young men of 
the party succeeded in pressing it into service 
upon the promise of good compensation to the 
driver, and now empty crates and coops were 
piled up on the roadside and the party sprang in. 
There were no seats, for the driver himself was 
perched upon an empty coop, and the five couples 
stood, and steadied themselves as best they could, 
and under the shelter of umbrellas rode the last 
mile of the way. It was a bright, gay, laughing 
company that drove up to the hotel and sp:feng 
out amid pelting drops, and altogether Olive de- 
clared it a delightful close of a most delightful 
day. 


MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


51 


CHAPTER V. 

MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 

How far ouglit I to go, father?” 

“ My dear Olive,” her father replied, “ your 
mother and I must leave this question for you to 
answer. You must consult your own conscience 
and bring your judgment to bear upon it, and 
this we believe you will do.” 

You know, mother, I determined I would 
not know these young people ; for, in the first 
place, I did not think there would be any con- 
geniality between us, and in the next I saw no 
prospect of improvement in their society, and I 
did in the course of reading I had marked out 
for myself.” 

“ But, Olive,” replied her mother, “ you can 
and do read and study at home ; and is it not 
better now for you to lay aside books, take exer- 
cise in the open air, enjoy your surroundings, 
even the company if you can, and give yourself 
in some measure to innocent diversion while we 
are here?” 

“ Mr. Manning argued with me in the same 
way, mother : that our natures require variety, 
and that it would be. better for us not to pursue 
the pleasures we have at home, but to give loose 


52 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


reins to the mind and body and touch books but 
lightly.” 

“ There is reason in this, my child,” added 
her father, “ for while you are not here for your 
health, yet this is the place to improve your body, 
and this duty is imperative. We are triads, and 
the condition of our minds and souls depends 
largely upon the care we take of our bodies. I am 
sorry you have no congenial friend here. I hoped 
you might find one in this company of young peo- 
ple ; since you have not, the question is for you 
to decide how far you shall cultivate the acquaint- 
ance of those who are here.” 

‘‘This is the way I look at it,” said Mrs. 
Grey son : “ these young people are here, so are 
we. You did not seek their society ; they really 
sought yours, or at least one of the party did, 
and through him you were introduced to his 
sister, cousins, and the rest of the company. An 
invitation was at once extended for you to join 
them in a wild-flower ramble, which you ac- 
cepted and have seen no reason since for regret- 
ting that you went. Going so far, it is difficult 
to keep from going farther. Our duties are 
many and multiform in this life, and, while I 
am anxious for you to meet your obligations in 
one line, I am still anxious for you not to neglect 
your duty in another. I confess to you, what I 
have never confessed before, that I have seen 


MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 53 

nothing in that group of young people to call 
forth my admiration. Their minds seem filled 
with dress and fashion, and their chief duty here 
seems to be to laugh ; and where so much laugh- 
ter is, I do not think there is much solid sense. 
I may do them injustice, but this is my verdict 
from my standpoint.” ' 

“ To a certain extent, my dear mother, you do 
them injustice. Some of these young people 
came to the Springs to have fun, and they are 
trying very hard to have it ; but really since I 
have become better acquainted I can see in 
many of them that this lightness lies only on 
the surface ; that beneath there are good sense 
and cultivated minds. I did them injustice my- 
self at first, and I am glad to correct your impres- 
sion. There is more in these apparently frivo- 
lous young people than at first appears. The 
young men are business young men, and are 
here for rest and recreation, and brought their 
sisters for company. There is Mr. Manning and 
his cousin Mr. Lansing, and their sisters ; then 
two lawyers, Messrs. Jones and Fleming, with 
their sisters, and their sisters’ friend, Miss Ware ; 
and lastly the independent candidate for public 
favor is a young reporter for a popular and wide- 
ly-circulated city paper. I learned these facts 
from Miss Clara Manning, also that they all be- 
long to refined and cultivated families. While I 


54 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


say this as explanatory, I must confess that they 
are all exceedingly gay in their tastes and very 
different from any I have ever associated with 
before and from any I would select as my inti- 
mate friends.” 

“ I am glad you told us this, Olive,” said Dr. 
Grey son. “ I am always glad to know the good 
in people. When I see these young people I 
can’t help thinking of a big preserving kettle, 
where the impurities from the sugar and impuri- 
ties from the fruit rise to the top and froth and 
foam, and the acidity rises, bubbles, and puffs up 
a snowy surface, looking for all the world like a 
most delicate mass lying in great folds of tempt- 
ing creaminess ; yet it is but scum, worthless 
scum that must be taken off, every vestige to be 
brought up by fierce heat and removed by a 
skilful hand. Now I love life, and young people 
should be bright and happy, but there is too 
much scum in some of them, worthless scum 
that must some day come off and leave the pure 
unadulterated sweets at the bottom. Now, as I 
said, I am glad to know that beneath the frothy 
surface of these young friends there is some- 
thing substantial and genuinely sweet; and I 
can see no harm in your cultivating their ac- 
quaintance, especially as we shall be here for so 
short a time.” 

“ I suppose,” Mrs. Greyson added, “ that we 


MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 55 

must not be selfish in our pleasures, and if we 
can impart any pleasure to those around us we 
ought to do it, for there are social duties required 
of us as well as others. But, my dear child, after 
all this discussion and talk you must decide for 
yourself how far you ought to go in your inter- 
course with these young people. I had a con- 
versation with Judge Bell last evening in the 
parlor, and he- said his wife and daughter had 
concluded to spend this week in Brooklyn ; so it 
will be several days yet before they will be here, 
and on your account I am sorry.” 

“ I am sorry too, for somehow I expected his 
daughter to be my one friend at the Springs, but 
now I must wait another week. Well, if the 
judge can bear it, so must I.” 

The Greysons were earnest Christian people. 
Oliye had been converted when about twelve 
years of age, and was regarded as one of the 
most consecrated members of her church. Al- 
though so young, her influence was great in the 
church. Sabbath-school, and community at large. 
Were there suffering poor and sick to be visited 
or counsel and comfort to be bestowed, her pas- 
tor knew that for anxiety to do good, cheerful- 
ness in assuming every duty, and success in 
accomplishing, Olive had few equals. Her piety 
was of a healthy sort, keeping her soul in a glow 


«;6 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


of exercise. Religion with her was an every- 
day thing, not a garment to be put off and on as 
occasion required, but it was the air she breathed, 
the life she lived. Her judgment and tact were 
remarkable, her bright, sweet face a benediction 
wherever she went, and the sunshine she carried 
about was an honor to the Saviour she loved and 
served. Not once since she had been at the 
Springs had she neglected reading her Bible 
and praying, and her Sabbaths were either spent 
in her room reading to the little ones or some 
book for her own spiritual good, or her father 
hired a carriage and they attended service at a 
little country church a few miles distant. 

After the conversation with her parents 
Olive mingled more with the young people ; in- 
deed they seemed to feel their circle incomplete 
without her, and after supper she now remained 
in the parlor an hour or two, for music or some 
innocent amusement, instead of returning to the 
cottage as she had done at first. Their circle 
had grown much larger, accessions being now 
constantly made to the visitors, for the intensely 
warm weather in the cities was driving the 
people to all the cool resorts. 

One morning upon going up to the hotel 
Olive found an unusual degree of excitement 
among the young people, and it did not take 
her long to find out that a ball at some neigh- 


MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 57 

boring Springs was in contemplation, and that 
invitations had been received by every guest. 
All the young people were going, and they were 
wild with delight. The gay season was now be- 
ginning in earnest. Balls at all the adjacent 
Springs would be given, and the usual courtesy 
extended from one watering-place to another; 
in course of time “ our Springs ” would return 
the compliment, and thus it would continue. 
Olive listened and smiled at the enthusiastic 
speeches, but further than this said nothing. 

“Will you not attend. Miss Greyson ?” asked 
Mr. Jones. 

“No, Mr. Jones, I cannot go ; but you will all 
have my warmest wishes that you may have a 
delightful trip and a safe return.” 

“ Thank you, but we had much rather have 
your presence than all the good wishes you can 
heap up.” 

“ Now, Mr. Jones, while I thank you, I must 
protest that you appreciate too little the only 
good thing I propose to send.” 

“ Not Caesar less, but Rome the more,” was 
laughingly replied. 

So they talked pleasantly of the matter, but 
no one inquired “Why?” With the girls it 
was, 

“ Oh, Olive, I am so sorry you cannot go.” 

The “cannot” implied impossibility, and this 


58 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


they understood to mean that her conscience 
would not permit it, and all respected her con- 
victions too much to try to argue her into 
compliance. 

The ball was over and was the topic of conver- 
sation generally, though when Olive was present 
the young men very courteously found other 
subjects in which she felt more interest. A re- 
ciprocal ball was to be given by their own pro- 
prietor the next week, and it was discussed' until 
the subject seemed threadbare. Great was the 
excitement, great the preparation for the com- 
ing occasion. Upon the eventful day Mr. Man- 
ning said, 

“ Miss Olive, I have a favor to ask you.” 

“Very well, Mr. Manning, it will give me 
pleasure to grant you a favor.” 

“ May I have the pleasure of a promenade 
through the ballroom with you this even- 
ing?” 

“You surprise me, Mr. Manning, for I did 
not suppose such a thing admissible. I thought 
only the dancers were admitted into the ball- 
room.” 

“No such rule will be binding this evening. 
The doors will be thrown wide open to the 
public. I have my reasons for making this 
request.” 


MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 59 

“ May I ask, Mr. Manning, wliat your very 
best reason is?” 

“ Now you are laughing, Miss Olive, that a 
ballroom devotee should have a single good 
reason on his side. Listen a moment. I would 
not ask you to indulge in any pastime or fre- 
quent any place where your religious convic- 
tions decide otherwise. Remember, I said, ‘in- 
dulge,’ ‘frequent,’ which implies repeated action. 
You are a Christian woman and I respect your 
conscientious scruples. I profess to be a Chris- 
tian too, but I try to be liberal in my views and 
intercourse with the world, and I hope I do not 
err, for I really believe I want to do right, if I 
can only discover what the right is. The young 
need diversion ; we must have it ; and I believe 
if Christians, instead of standing aloof and de- 
nouncing us, would bring their religion with 
them and enter into these diversions with us, 
the evil in them would be prevented. Remem- 
ber your father’s plan for ‘ fiction,’ and consider 
whether this is not the wise course for Chris- 
tians to pursue in young people’s diversions: 
unite with them in their amusements, and if 
there is wrong attending them, then by precept 
and practice let them correct this wrong. How 
can Christians purify the world if they refuse to 
mingle with it ? I am anxious for you to attend 
this ball with me to-night, and then I want your 


6o 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


candid opinion. I would not make this request 
were you at home where your example might 
influence others ; but here nearly everybody 
will attend, and your presence or absence will 
effect nothing. What say you?” 

Olive thought a few moments and then re- 
plied reluctantly, 

“Under all the circumstances, Mr. Manning, 
and for the reason you have assigned^ I will go 
with you, but only for a short time. No one 
admires beautiful costumes and flashing jewels 
more than I, and so far I shall enjoy the scene, 
shall imagine I am in some grand orchid con- 
servatory where every wing is spread to soar — 
heavenward, shall I say ?” 

Mr. Manning’s moustache twitched a mo- 
ment and then he replied, 

“Well, not exactly, I fear; but then you 
know we are to consider only the diversion as a 
necessity for the young.” 

“And whether the dance may not be Chris- 
tianized ?” Olive asked archly. 

“ I must confess,” replied Mr. Manning with 
a laugh, “ that the words ' soaring heavenward ’ 
and ‘ Christianized ’ sound rather incongruous in 
connection with a ballroom ; but since you have 
consented to go, even though it be in a mission- 
ary spirit, I will forgive your little innuendo.” 


MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 6 1 

The evening could not have been lovelier. 
The grounds were literally alive with people, 
mostly strangers from neighboring Springs. At 
nine o’clock Mr. Manning, in full evening dress, 
appeared at the cottage to escort Miss Greyson 
to the hotel. Olive immediately made her ap- 
pearance in simple white, natural flowers her 
only ornament. Soon they were standing in 
the ballroom door and Olive’s eyes were dazzled 
by the novel scene. The dancing had just com- 
menced, and the airy grace and poetic rhythm 
of motion were all there : beautiful women, hand- 
some men, laughing eyes and rosy lips, dresses 
of matchless beauty and jewels fairly making 
rainbows in their flashing reflections. When 
had Olive ever witnessed such a scene ! Mr. 
Manning watched her face as a tide of admira- 
tion and pleasure rolled over it ; but it was only 
for a moment, then, with a sickening sensation, 
she turned and exclaimed. 

Oh take me back, take me back ; this is no 
place for me ! Not even is the door of a ball- 
room any place for a Christian.” 

They turned away, walked to the* cottage- 
door, and parted without a word. 


62 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


CHAPTER VI. 

AT THE BALLROOM DOOR. 

Olive found it hard to compose herself to 
sleep that night, and midnight found her wide 
awake and still in deep thought. She had been 
unprepared for the scene she had witnessed. 
She had expected elegant dresses, but was quite 
unprepared for bare arms and shoulders and so 
bare ! Then she was totally unprepared for the 
familiarity allowed — women in the arms of men, 
embraces, which would be insulting in a parlor, 
submitted to because set to music! Her wo- 
manly modesty revolted, and she blushed that 
she should have been an eye-witness to such 
shameful proceedings. If Douglass Manning 
wished to show her that all arguments against 
dancing were unfounded, he had certainly taken 
the wrong course. She had not wished to pro- 
nounce judgment against a thing of which she 
knew but little, so had been willing to be a spec- 
tator that she might be persuaded that dancing 
had been abused without reason, that it w^as no 
sin, and that any church that discountenanced 
it was only trying to keep its young people in 
strait-jackets. Well, Olive had seen, was con- 


AT THE BALLROOM DOOR. 63 

vinced, and had now an argument more potent 
than any she had ever heard. Her cheeks were 
still tingling when her little alarm clock struck 
twelve, and when she closed her eyes it was 
with a feeling of gladness that she had gone and 
seen for herself ; yet it was with a feeling of 
anger against Douglass Manning that he, a pro- 
fessing Christian, could countenance such an 
amusement, and was willing, nay, anxious, to 
subject her to such a sight ; and she felt that it 
were better that their lives parted right here and 
that she saw him no more. 

On awakening next morning her chagrin 
and anger had nearly passed away, and she was 
prepared to look back at the night before with a 
cooler, calmer judgment. She remembered that 
none of her friends had descended to the ball- 
room before she left ; that Mr. Manning had 
said he had hurried down for her that he might 
station her at a convenient place, so she might 
see them and others enter ; that it was a waltz 
the band was playing, so that it was the evolu- 
tions of a waltz the various couples were per- 
forming, and it might have been wives with hus- 
bands, sisters with brothers. Perhaps she should 
have waited and witnessed the promiscuous 
dance before pronouncing judgment; perhaps 
she had wounded Mr. Manning’s feelings by 
turning off so quickly and showing him that he 


64 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


had brought her to the wrong place. She was 
sorry, but it was too late to retract now ; and 
even if husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, 
were waltzing together, nothing could excuse 
the style of dress ! 

Olive determined to remain in her room 
until all the strangers had left, and a severe 
headache made her the more willing to be alone. 
The grounds and hotel seemed alike deserted, 
for, since the dancing had continued until 
nearly day, all were asleep except the few who 
were neither participants nor spectators. First 
the gentlemen made their appearance, then one 
by one, at a later hour, the ladies, and it was 
noon before all of the strangers had gone. 
Everybody had a “ gloriously good time every- 
bo'dy was “perfectly delighted” with the ball; 
but everybody felt a lassitude that each was 
willing to confess, and a total unfitness for exer- 
tion of any kind, even for much talking. After 
the afternoon nap every one felt brighter, and 
Olive, with the thought uppermost in her mind 
that she might have given occasion for wounded 
feelings, sauntered down to the spring where all 
of the young people had congregated, deter- 
mined, if possible, to make amends for her quick 
act, but still to be her own true self and to be 
firm for Christian principle. 

The young men had scattered over the 


AT THE BALLROOM DOOR. 6 $ 

grounds to enjoy their cigars, but the young 
ladies were grouped together in a shady spot. 
As soon as Clara Manning caught sight of Olive 
she called out, 

“ Why, Olive, where have you kept yourself 
all day? One would have thought you would 
have been charmingly bright and rosy, that you 
would have shamed our pale cheeks and hollow 
eyes, and then you would have yourself stood a 
living argument against our favorite amuse- 
ment.” 

Olive had to acknowledge a headache and 
every one was sympathetic ; but soon the con- 
versation drifted back to the evening before, 
when Clara Manning remarked, 

“ I never waltz. Douglass would never con- 
sent for me to waltz, and he says he never will 
insult any woman by inviting her to do what he 
opposes in his sister. Then, too, I never dance 
a round dance ; and as to the german, what 
would papa and mamma think were I to attend 
one ! The square dance is all I indulge in, and 
I can dance that every night in the week and 
enjoy every set.” 

A few agreed, but most of the young ladies 
disagreed, and so the matter of various dances 
was left undecided. The subject was a new one 
to Olive. She thought a dance was a dance 
whether it were a waltz, a german, round, or 
5 


A Seeming Trifle. 


66 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


square dance. Her conscience began to re- 
proach her more than ever for her manner and 
quick decision the night before, and after a few 
pleasant words she turned, book in hand, to her 
old seat, thinking as she did so that it was not 
right to dance anyway, and if no other argu- 
ment could be urged against it, the very condi- 
tion of the dancers next day was enough for 
her, and she exclaimed, 

“ If this is not ‘ revelling,’ what is !” 

The sound of voices not far off startled 
her, and turning, she saw several young men 
seated upon a bench at no great distance, 
smoking. 

“ Fresh arrivals,” she heard Mr. Lansing say, 
and then Mr. Manning asked, 

“Any one we know?” 

“ I think not,” was replied. “A dozen new 
guests have arrived, and among the names upon 
the registry I noticed those of Mrs. T. K. Bell 
and Miss Lottie Bell of Alabama ; Judge Bell’s 
wife and daughter, I suppose.” 

“Are you acquainted with them, Fred?” Mr. 
Manning inquired; but interrupting the reply 
Olive heard the quick tones of Mr. Jones’ voice 
asking, 

“ Is she pretty, Fred ?” 

“I declare. Bob,” exclaimed Mr. Lansing, 
“that’s the first question you always ask. With 


AT THE BALLROOM DOOR. 6/ 

you the summutn bonum is a pretty face, I do 
believe.” 

“ Partly no, but mostly yes, Fred ; but why 
not confess the truth ? I am a great admirer of 
beauty, and if ever I am a married man, you 
may depend' upon it there will be a pretty face 
somewhere about. Why, I couldn’t endure to 
face an ugly woman three times a day at my 
own table. Were I compelled to do it, I should 
rejoice when old age dimmed my sight, or, as I 
believe the wise man puts it, when, ‘ those that 
look out of the windows shall be darkened.’ 
But,” striking a fist in the palm of his hand by 
way of emphasis, “ I tell you I will not marry 
any but a pretty woman ; I ’ll live and die an 
old bachelor first.” 

“ I know a young man,” remarked Mr. Man- 
ning, ‘‘who actually married a beautiful face, 
and he has been wretched ever since. Beware 
of that woman who loves admiration !” 

“ Every dish requires its own peculiar condi- 
ments to make it savory,” said Mr. Jones, “and 
beauty alone would be insipid. I want a beau- 
tiful woman who is totally unconscious of her 
beauty.” 

“ Is there such a woman living ?” inquired 
Mr. Lansing. 

“Yes, many, I am constrained to believe,” 
replied Mr. Manning. “ I do not believe that 


68 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


women generally love and crave flattery ; I be- 
lieve it is the poorest, most vapid compliment 
you can pay a sensible woman. But, Bob, you 
do yourself injustice ; you are not looking for 
a beautiful woman, you want an angel, for I 
have heard you enumerate all the good qualities 
you want her to possess ; and above all things, 
you said, your wife must never be guilty of an 
unwomanly thing, and she must be a consistent 
Christian woman.” 

“Well, Douglass, yes, I want a womanly wo- 
man, of course I do ; yes, I want a Christian wo- 
man, too. To tell the truth, every ungodly man 
wants a Christian woman for his wife, and every 
ungodly woman wants a Christian man for her 
husband. Perhaps it is because we like our op- 
posites. You know there is a law in nature that 
surfaces of unlike polarity attract each other. 
Who can be so trusted as a Christian ? Who is so 
guided by laws outside of self as she ? Who is 
such a positive character ? Who so intent upon 
what is right, who so cheerful, who so loving, 
who so self-sacrificing, who so patient, who so 
brave, who so everything? There is nobody 
on earth before whom I bow so low as before a 
consecrated Christian woman.” 

“You amaze me. Bob!” exclaimed Mr. Lan- 
sing. “Any one to have witnessed your evolu- 
tions in the ballroom last evening — the finest 


AT THE BALLROOM DOOR. 69 

dancer upon the floor, as you were universally 
conceded to be — would have been surprised 
to have heard such platitudes from your 
lips.” 

“ Perhaps so. Oh I am always filled with 
disgust at myself and womankind after every 
ball I attend ! ‘ Why then attend ?’ you are 

ready to ask. Because my forte lies in my feet, 
because I know I can dance well, because it is 
the thing I can do best, and because my vanity 
is gratified by the applause of people. Then 
there is another thing that sickens my better 
nature. Whom does the finest dancer upon the 
floor among the men select for his partner? 
Why, of course, the finest dancer among the la- 
dies, to enhance his own triumph. And who is 
she ? Oftentimes a woman I would n’t deign to 
notice upon the street, a coarse, unrefined crea- 
ture, who has two active feet, a willowy figure, 
and nothing more. She is the one I select as 
my partner in the dance, and I put my arms 
around a woman I feel no respect for and away 
we go whirling off for the admiration of the 
public. I never fail to despise myself after a 
ball. I am naturally gay and fond of a certain 
amount of society, and I like to dance because 
there, if nowhere else, I am a success ; but I tell 
you I have inwardly resolved never to marry a 
dancing woman.” 


70 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“Yes,” said Mr. Manning-, “but I ’ll venture 
you will be at the very next ball, even if it is 
followed by another ‘ reactionary storm,’ as our 
weather prophets call it. You have n’t had sleep 
enough. Bob, that is what is the matter with 
you. Here, try another cigar; I really think 
you need it.” 

“ No, thank you, Manning, I need neither ci- 
gars nor sleep ; it ’s a change of base that I feel 
has now become a necessity. If somebody would 
hand me a pledge to sign I ’d be willing to put 
my name to it this morning that I ’d never dance 
again as long as I live ;” and with this startling 
declaration Mr. Jones walked over to join the 
young ladies. Olive’s eyes followed him as he 
walked away, and her mind was filled with won- 
der at the conversation to which she had really 
been an unwilling listener. The next thing she 
heard was Mr. Lansing’s voice saying, 

“No, I am not acquainted with Miss Lottie 
Bell ; indeed, have never seen her. I imagine 
that she is not strikingly beautiful, but I know 
that she is one of the noblest of women, and I 
am exceedingly anxious to meet her.” 

“ What do you know of her, Fred ?” asked 
Mr. Manning with interest. 

“ I know that her life has been an illustration 
of the total unselfishness of her nature, and if 
there is one trait in man, woman, or child 


AT THE BALLROOM DOOR. 71 

that I do admire above another it is unselfish- 
ness.” 

Tell me what you know of her, Fred, that I 
may be ready to admire her too.” 

What I know, Douglass, I learned through 
a friend of mine, a married gentleman, a near 
neighbor of the Bells, and I will tell you what 
he related to me. My friend said that Judge 
Bell was a talented man, that no man stood 
higher at the bar than he, that no man had 
more the confidence of the community in which 
he lives, yet that his habits had not been strictly 
temperate ; in fact, that a few years back he was 
fast becoming a sot. They had a home in the 

village of G , but were dependent upon the 

judge’s position and practice for support. After 
he began to give way to his weakness he lost the 
judgeship, his cases in law became fewer and 
fewer, his debts greater and greater, and in a 
few months a heavy mortgage covered his home. 
Mrs. Bell began to sink under the trouble. Lot- 
tie, their only child, saw and realized their sit- 
uation, and going to my friend begged that he 
would prevent the mortgage from being fore- 
closed until she had made an effort in her home’s 
behalf. She obtained the village school, taught 
a large number of pupils, and taught them to 
the perfect satisfaction of her patrons ; and out 
of school-hours she gave music lessons, for she 


72 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


is an accomplished musician. There was the 
usual summer holiday for the pupils, but this 
girl took none, for she gave art and music les- 
sons to a large class throughout the heated 
term ; and at the end of the first year she paid 
$600 towards raising the mortgage upon their 
home. Who would not wait upon such energy 
and determination as this ? Nobody would press 
any claim against her father. A rich friend 
offered to lend her the remainder of the money, 
but she refused to accept any aid. One more 
year of hard work, and then she brought the 
deed for the place, made out in her mother’s 
name, and placed it in her hands as her mother’s 
for ever. More than this, she was the strength 
and comfort of her mother during these two 
years, a sunbeam at home, and a strong re- 
straining influence to her father, and her gen- 
tleness yet determination proved his salvation. 
He is a sober man now, and his friends have 
conferred the judgeship upon him again since 
his successor’s death left the position vacant. 
More than all this, when these troubles began 
Lottie Bell was engaged to be married to a 
young man who was regarded as worthy of the 
prize he had won, and who offered her a lovely 
home of her own ; but knowing the condition of 
affairs she put off the marriage day, saying her 
first duty was to see her parents comfortable be- 


AT THE BALLROOM DOOR. 73 

fore she could seek ease for herself. I am told 
that he offered to raise the mortgage himself, 
but this she declined ; and when he showed im- 
patience and anger and insisted upon a speedy 
marriage, she at once dissolved their engage- 
ment. Not being able to admire such pluck 
and bravery, he left, and before a year was mar^ 
ried to another.” 

“ A romantic story truly !” exclaimed Man- 
ning. “ I am glad we are to have the heroine 
among us.” 

“ I think she would prefer to have none of 
these facts known, for she makes no claim to 
being a heroine, indeed believes she did only 
her simple duty and deserves no credit what- 
ever for it. I hope to rneet her, for already I 
feel a deep interest in her career.” 

“So do I. Such cases have peculiar attrac- 
tions for me ; they are as rare as they are inter- 
esting.” 

Olive had not lost a word of the whole con- 
versation. She had done her utmost to chain 
her mind to the book before her, but it proved 
more refractory than ever before, and not a leaf 
had she turned, scarcely a word had she read. 
She did not feel like an eaves-dropper either, for 
the young men had her in full view where she 
sat, and their tones were quite loud enough to 
be heard distinctly without any effort upon her 


74 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


part. She had been thrilled by the beautiful 
story. Judge Bell had hinted at nothing of this. 
He had only spoken in the tenderest manner of 
Lottie, and seemed anxious that Olive and she 
should meet. Now Olive longed to know her. 
‘‘Surely,” she thought, “here is a congenial 
friend, one trained in the school of trouble and 
affliction, who has stood its fires heroically and 
come forth, no doubt, purified.” 

Olive closed her book and went to the cot- 
tage to get ready to call upon Miss Lottie Bell 
at the hotel. 


LOTTIE BELL. 


75 


CHAPTER VII. 

LOTTIE BELL. 

The conversation wliicli Olive had just heard 
made her the more anxious to become acquaint- 
ed with Lottie Bell. So impatient was she that 
she found it hard to wait until she supposed Mrs. 
Bell and Lottie were rested sufficiently to leave 
their rooms ; but as she glanced through her 
window she saw Judge Bell and the two ladies 
walking towards the principal spring, and Olive 
hastened to join them. 

“ I was so anxious to call,” she said as soon 
as introduced, “that I could scarcely curb my 
impatience long enough to allow you to rest a 
little after your journey.” 

“ And I,” said Lottie, “ was equally anxious 
to meet you, for papa has prepared me for a 
very pleasant acquaintance.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Judge Bell 
with a quizzical shake of the head. “ I wrote 
Lottie, Miss Olive, that you were a very peculiar 
young lady indeed, that our acquaintance began 
with your offering her father a direct insult, 
which insult he very strangely apologized for. 
Then too I told her that you were not like the 


76 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


girls around here, for I had not heard one word 
of slang or nonsense fall from your lips, neither 
had I seen you do one objectionable thing ; that 
though you mingled freely with the people here, 
still you did not enter into their frivolity, that 
you held yourself distinct from others, and were 
in truth a very peculiar young lady.” 

“ I am not sure, judge,” said Olive, “that I 
see enough complimentary in your expression 
‘ peculiar ’ to thank you for it.” 

“Oh,” exclaimed Lottie, coming to the res- 
cue, “papa intended the term as remarkably 
complimentary. Miss Greyson, for he is a great 
admirer of independence, and he assured me 
that I would fall in love with you at first sight.” 

“ For your daughter’s sake I forgive you, 
sir.” 

“ I believe I am glad to make friends upon 
any terms,” was replied with mock gravity, “ for 
I always was afraid of these very peculiar peo- 
ple.” 

Olive laughed merrily as she slipped her hand 
through Lottie’s arm, and soon they had wan- 
dered off alone and were intent upon each other. 
It was true, they had fallen in love at first sight. 
Lottie Bell’s face would never have been called 
beautiful, yet had you seen it in a crowd your 
eye would have turned to it again, why you 
could hardly explain. There was about her a 


LOTTIE BELL. 


17 ■ 

total unconsciousness of power, a forgetfulness 
of self, which made her attractive. Her features 
had no beauty of regularity, yet they were pleas- 
ant. If her forehead was broad, her waving 
brown hair clustering above it made you forget 
its width ; if her nose was prominent, you for- 
gave it for the strength of character it suggest- 
ed ; if her mouth was large, you felt grateful for 
its size because of the display of beautiful teeth 
and for the sincere smile which played around 
it ; while her dark blue eyes were bright and 
expressive. 

Olive and Lottie soon found subjects in which 
they were mutually interested, especially music 
and art, and Olive drank in all that Lottie said 
of her work in New York, the lessons she had 
taken while there, what she had learned and 
accomplished, and all of her plans for the future. 
It w^as a delight to hear one talk so intently 
upon improvement who was so dissatisfied with 
what she had already done and so eager to press 
forward in the path of knowledge. Her ambi- 
tion was irrepressible and infectious, and made 
one feel like starting with her in the race for 
perfection. 

Olive introduced Lottie to all of her young 
friends in the parlor that evening, and two of 
the young men found her at once particularly 
attractive, and from this time all of the plans of 


78 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


the young people included Lottie Bell. Not- 
withstanding these claims, there were many mo- 
ments when the two girls wandered off alone, 
when they sat for hours conversing upon sub- 
jects of mutual interest, and these they felt the 
happiest of the twenty-four. One afternoon as 
they were walking together Olive said, 

“ Lottie, the afternoon you arrived I was sit- 
ting upon that rustic seat yonder under that 
large oak trying to read, when Messrs. Manning 
and Lansing took their seats upon the bench be- 
yond smoking, and as they puffed away I heard 
a beautiful story, one that touched me deeply, 
and from that moment I loved you. They called 
you ‘ a heroine,’ and in my heart I acknowledged 
that you were a heroine too.” 

“ Oh, Olive,” exclaimed Lottie, the color 
mounting to her cheeks as she spoke, “ it would 
be affectation upon my part if I pretended not 
to know to what you allude ; but did it never 
occur to you that some people have heroism 
thrust upon them even against their wills? 
Please do not think of me as a heroine, for in- 
deed I lay claim to nothing of the kind.” 

“ If a heroine is one possessed of heroism, 
and heroism is ‘a noble devotion to a great 
cause and a just confidence of being able to meet 
danger in the spirit of such a cause,’' then you 
are a heroine. You certainly possessed every 



A Seeming Trifle. Page 78 







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LOTTIE BELL. /g 

quality, bravery, intrepidity, self-abnegation, for- 
titude — ” 

“ Oh please stop ! Who would not prefer to 
teach rather than have the house take wings 
from over your head, the very bread from your 
lips? I did nothing remarkable, indeed I did 
not. I am sorry this story has preceded me. I 
had rather be loved for what I am, not for what 
I may have done.” 

“ Can we not judge the character by the 
actions ? I think this the safest means of reach- 
ing the true merit of a person.” 

“ So much is done in this world for policy, for 
applause, sometimes because one cannot help 
one’s self, that the judgment is perverted and 
often misled.” 

“ But, Lottie, if the action is sifted the motive 
shows the character. I grant that it is not by 
one act or two that we can form a true estimate 
of a man, but it is the little things that are too 
trifling for him to notice by which we can judge 
him and which show his true character. You 
did a heroic thing when you undertook that 
school to raise the mortgage on your home, and 
it was a daily sacrifice of comfort and pleasure, a 
life of toil and hardships for those two years, 
I know. It was a noble thing you did for your 
dear mother, and your course was, no doubt, the 
salvation of your father. I admire the hero- 


8o 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


ism you showed ; but, dear Lottie, more than 
this, I love you for the Christian fortitude, the 
Christian character, you displayed.” 

“ Olive, my dear friend, your commendation 
troubles me. I do not deserve it, indeed I do 
not. As to the Christian fortitude and character 
displayed, I fear there was little Christian any- 
thing- in what I did. That I profess to be a 
Christian after some sort of a fashion I do not 
deny, for my name is upon the church-roll at 
home ; but I blush when I think how little my 
profession and my life accord. I worked for 
over two years to save our home, to pay my fa- 
ther’s debts, to support my parents, and, while I 
succeeded in meeting these obligations, and 
through these efforts perhaps was instrumental 
in showing my father his weakness, in causing 
him to reform and become again a strong, 
steady business man, yet it was only love for 
my parents that made me do it, only the pride 
of a proud woman who could not brook to see 
her home seized by a creditor, sold, arid occu- 
pied by another. Love me, Olive. I beg you 
to love me with all the warmth of your heart, 
but, while I crave this affection, I cannot bear 
to stand upon any pinnacle of pe3;fection in 
your estimation, for that is not my true place. If 
you can love me as I am, notwithstanding my 
numberless faults, I shall rejoice, but do not 


LOTTIE BELL. 


8l 


attribute any undue good to me, any Christianity 
in my actions, or you will deceive yourself.” 

“ But, Lottie, you do yourself injustice, and I 
am going to believe about your past what I 
please, for I feel assured I know you better than 
you know yourself.” 

“ Well, Olive, I have given you a friendly, 
honest warning, and if you are deceived, why 
then — ” 

“ Yes, I will exonerate you from all blame ; 
but tell me, Lottie, why you speak of your life as 
not corresponding to your Christian profession.” 

Because it does not. I joined the church 
when I was very young, and at the time I 
thought I was changed, but I believe now it was 
merely mental excitement. My mother was so 
anxious for me to become a Christian, I think 
now I must have joined to make^ her happy ; and 
then it was a good time to join, for ten of my 
young friends were going to unite with the 
church, and the time seemed so propitious I 
went forward and gave my hand too.” 

“ But your experience, was it not considered 
satisfactory by your pastor and by the church?” 

“ My ‘ experience ’ ! I did n’t have any expe- 
rience. Why, child, did n’t you know that this 
thing of relating experiences has gone out of 
fashion long since ?” 

“ But your pastor, Lottie, he had conversa- 
6 


A Seemins Trifle. 


82 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


tions with you, he was perfectly satisfied, I sup- 
pose.” 

“ Why, my pastor never said two words upon 
the subject to me in his life, neither before nor 
since. He seemed very glad for us to join, for 
there were eleven of us, and the church voted us 
all in and we Ve been in ever since. And now I 
am going to confess something to you, Olive 
Greyson, which will startle you indeed. I have 
been a member of the church for six years, and 
if in all this time I have communed six times, I 
don’t remember when they were.” 

“ Why, Lottie ! Does not your church arraign 
its members when they absent themselves from 
the Lord’s table ?” 

“ No, indeed. I never heard of one who was 
arraigned for this cause in my life. Why, Olive, 
in what corner of the world have you lived not 
to know that this kind of thing has gone out of 
fashion too ?” 

Olive’s face expressed much, but Lottie was 
drawing upon the ground with the end of her 
parasol and did not see it. Presently Olive 
asked, 

“ What kind of a man is your pastor, Lottie ?” 

“ Oh he is perfectly splendid ; everybody loves 
him, he is so good and lovely ; besides, he is very 
intellectual ; indeed he is the most entertaining 
preacher I ever listened to in my life.” 


LOTTIE BELL. 83 

Then raising her head and looking Olive in 
the face, she added seriously, 

“ Olive, I am sorry I spoke lightly of these 
subjects, for I assure you I do not feel so. I 
spoke too of certain things going ‘ out of fashion ’ 
when I know that custom has nothing to do with 
religion. Our pastor came from a large city 
church, where his health had failed from over- 
work, to our little church. His views are very 
liberal indeed, and he believes in leaving much 
to individual consciences, for he takes it for 
granted that everybody possesses these inconve- 
nient appendages ; and while this liberality in- 
creases his popularity, I am not sure that I 
agree with him exactly in — . But no, I will not 
criticise my pastor. Now, Olive, while I spoke 
lightly of some things, I do assure you that my 
estimate of true Christian character is high, for I 
do not believe that any one admires genuine 
consecration more than I. At the same time I 
see no reason why .we young people should be 
caged, and fetters placed upon us, to keep us 
from deviating from what old people would call 
Christian proprieties. The world is so beautiful 
I must be happy in it, and I intend to be 
just as long as I live. I do not believe that 
our Heavenly Father intended us to be throt- 
tled and manacled ; I believe he loves to see us 
happy, believe he thought of this when he made 


84 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


this beautiful world with every beautiful thing 
in it.” 

So do I, Lottie ; but does being a Christian 
make one less happy ? It seems to me our en- 
joyment is increased by the thought, ‘ My Father 
made these beautiful things for me,’ and espe- 
cially when we remember that in the mansions 
above the ‘ heart of man ’ has never ' conceived ’ 
of the beauties awaiting us, his children.” 

“ ‘ Awaiting us ’ ! Yes, when we die. Death 
is a terrible inconvenience ; the thought is horri- 
ble to me ! Ugh ! I cannot bear it. Sometimes 
I sail on, and everything is fair and smooth, but 
suddenly the thought of death confronts me ; 
then gone is the beauty of earth and sky, gone 
the perfume of the flowers upon the breeze, gone 
the happiness that was mine, and nothing but 
clouds, dark shadows, and death surround me! 
Life is so sweet, I wish there were only life. 
Death may do for the old and diseased, but not 
for the young, buoyant with health and hope, 
with high spirits and aspirations — oh surely not 
for us !” 

There was a pause, and then she turned and 
in a tremulous tone said. 

Feeling as I do, do n’t you know I am not a 
Christian? Christians have no fear of dying, but 
I haver; therefore I am not a Christian. Is not 
this self-evident?” 


LOTTIE BELL. 


85 


“ Your syllogism is wrong, Lottie ; it is based 
upon a false premise. You assert that Christians 
have no fear of death. There is no reason why 
they should have such fear, but they are not ex- 
empt from it, and there are many of us to whom 
the thought is not pleasant. Some one has said 
that dying grace will be given us when we come 
to die, and not before ; that it would be burden- 
some if we had to carry it about with us before 
we need it.” 

“ Oh, Olive, I am so glad you told me this ; 
there is reason in it, and it comforts me. But go 
on ; I interrupted you.” 

“ Well, I said your premise was wrong, for 
many Christians do fear to die, and because you 
fear it is no proof that you are not a Christian. 
It may be a proof, though, that you are not living 
up to your privileges as a Christian, and it is well 
for us occasionally to take a retrospect of our 
lives, to look into our hearts to see which occu- 
pies the larger space, our Saviour or the world ; 
whether we have lived for him as we should 
have done, and whether we have tried to do his 
will in all things. Because we are Christians is 
no reason why we should n’t enjoy ourselves in 
this beautiful world, why we should be throttled 
and manacled, as you say. Religion may have 
proved a sacrifice to some people, but it was none 
to me. I gave up nothing when I accepted 


86 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Christ, but the happiest moments of my life are 
those I spend in working for him.” 

A deep sigh from Lottie was the only reply, 
and for a few moments nothing was heard but 
the rustle of leaves overhead ; but in another 
moment the silence was broken by the voice of 
Clara Manning calling them to come up and take 
a game of tennis. They went, enjoyed the 
game, agreed to go on another wild-flower ram- 
ble the next day, and for the twenty-four hours 
following Olive and Lottie saw each other only 
in a crowd. 


A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 


37 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 

Upon the evening after the above conversa- 
tion Olive sat in her room at the cottage and 
thought : 

“ Lottie Bell is a Christian, I am sure, notwith- 
standing her doubts of the genuineness of her 
conversion when she joined the church. I have 
never seen a nobler, lovelier character. She is 
very humble and conscientious, will not admit 
any good in herself, and puts her motives down 
upon the lowest scale. Then, too, her estimate 
of Christian character is high ; and because she 
does not reach her own standard she denounces 
herself and declares she was never converted. 
How tenderly she spoke of these things ! How 
her lip and voice trembled ! What a strange 
man her pastor must be ! I am so thankful our 
pastor is old-fashioned in his ideas and practices, 
and that he keeps us all so busy working for the 
Saviour that we have no time for coldness and 
doubts. There is no telling what would become 
of me if he did not keep me constantly at work. 
Oh I cannot afford to stop! Poor Lottie! she 
misses so much by inaction. She has such an 
erroneous idea of religion, thinks it a hindrance 


88 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


to real pleasure, whereas I think Christians 
ought to be the very happiest people on earth. 
This difference in our ideas is owing, I am per- 
suaded, to the difference in the influence and 
teachings of our pastors. Oh I want to show 
her that a Christian can be bright, cheerful, and 
happy, and I will.” 

As Lottie sat in her room at the hotel she 
too indulged in a soliloquy, though it was some- 
what shorter : 

“ Olive Greyson is the loveliest girl I ever 
saw. She is a warm, earnest Christian too, but 
she does not wear a long, lugubrious face, for she 
is bright and sparkling, the very life of every 
crowd she is in. Religion is certainly no burden 
to her. Were I called upon to pick out the hap- 
piest person of all these gay young people here, I 
should certainly select her. I have never before 
seen a person with whom I would willingly ex- 
change places, but I really would change places 
with Olive if I could. It would be a bad ex- 
change for her though. I am watching her ; she 
is the study I keep before my eyes. Oh that I 
were only like her !” 

******** 

As Olive walked into the parlor that evening 
these words arrested her attention : 

“ No, sir, I have no conscientious scruples 
upon the subject, but I am one of the few who 


A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 89 

do not dance because I find no pleasure in the 
amusement.” 

It was Lottie’s voice, but as Olive took a re- 
mote seat she did not hear Mr. Manning’s reply. 
She had known that her friend did not frequent 
the ballroom, why she had never inquired ; but 
she hoped her reasons were a Christian’s reasons. 
She had seen her often at the card-table, and 
knew that she delighted in a game of cards, and 
now progressive euchre was the most popular 
game at the Springs. Olive had often joined the 
young people in what she regarded as innocent 
games, but she had held aloof from cards, though 
after Lottie came she often remained in the par- 
lor during the game, waiting to take their usual 
promenade before parting for the night. At 
first the spotted cards were an object of aversion 
to Olive, but after watching the game an evening 
or two this aversion passed away, and, though 
only a looker-on behind Lottie’s chair, she had 
upon these occasions caught the spirit of tho 
game and watched it with all the zest of a 
player. 

One afternoon one of the young men said to 
herself and Lottie, 

“ We are to have a grand farewell game this 
evening, in honor of Mrs. Stacey’s last night 
with us, and we shall expect you both to favor 
us with your presence.” 


90 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


After supper, and the usual walk to the 
spring, all the gay people assembled in the lar- 
gest parlor for the farewell game of progressive 
euchre, and the young men had ordered refre.sh- 
ments to be served later during the evening. 
Small tables were grouped about, around Avhich 
sat the players, and everything was proceeding 
gayly, everybody was in the highest spirits and 
excited to the greatest degree. Olive and one or 
two others stood looking on. 

For some time the playing continued and the 
interest was unabated, when at length a lady was 
summoned to her room, since her little boy was 
threatened with croup, and she arose saying she 
would be compelled to relinquish her “ hand ” to 
some one else. For a few moments it seemed 
that the game must be broken up, since no one 
could fill the vacancy, but with a sudden thought 
Lottie turned and said, 

“ Olive, here, take Mrs. Baskom’s hand. You 
have watched the game enough to understand it, 
and are so quick I know you can already beat 
some of us experienced players. Don’t hesitate ; 
surely you cannot, under the circumstances. It 
will be really disobliging if you refuse, so take 
this seat right by me, and do n’t let our interest- 
ing game be broken up for the want of one 
player.” 

Olive hesitated, but entreaties came in upon 


A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 9 1 

all sides, and finally she took the vacant seat and 
picked up the cards turned over before her on 
the table, but in her mind she determined to 
play this one game through and no more. 

Refreshments were brought in, something 
that would not interfere with the game, fruit- 
cake and wine, so that they could eat and drink 
yet play on. When handed Olive she took a 
slice of cake, but declined the wine ; which when 
Mr. Manning saw, he called the waiter and gave 
him some whispered direction. ■ He soon ap- 
peared with a glass of lemonade dashed with 
claret, and, at a nod from Mr. Manning, placed it 
at Olive’s side. Olive knew what the drink was 
at a glance. She had refused wine, and here it 
was coloring the lemonade, though but a frac- 
tional part of the drink. What should she do? 
A thousand thoughts flitted through her brain. 
Here was Mr. Manning, the young man who had 
been her fast friend at first, even until the night 
of the ball when she had wounded his feelings. 
She knew she had wounded him, because, though 
he had been very polite since, it had been a kind 
of freezing politeness, and she had been perfect- 
ly conscious of the iciness in his manner. He 
was a Christian too, and, while she thought there 
was great latitude in his views, still he seemed a 
perfectly upright and moral young man, and was 
doubtless a sincere, warm Christian. Then, too, 


92 A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

since hearing his sister speak of the various 
dances and her brother’s opinion of them, she 
had felt sorry that she had turned away so 
abruptly, and no doubt she had done wrong in 
giving so severe a reproof to one who was with- 
out doubt a better Christian than she. 

These thoughts went surging through Olive’s 
brain while the piece of cake lay upon her hand- 
kerchief, the glass of red lemonade untouched 
by her side, and mechanically she shuffled and 
played. Others had eaten and drank and called 
for more. What should she do? In respect for 
her conscience, in deference to her principles, 
Mr. Manning had had a drink substituted for the 
wine she had just refused, yet was it right? 
Raising her eyes they met Mr. Manning’s fas- 
tened upon her, full of inquiry, and then his fell 
upon the untouched glass, and with a quick im- 
pulse she raised the lemonade to her lips and 
sipped. After this cake and lemonade disap- 
peared rapidly, and in the gayest spirits the card- 
party broke up, just as the clock upon the mantel 
chimed one. 

In another week Dr. Greyson and family had 
bade adieu to the friends they had met at the 
Springs, and were then among the mountains of 
western North Carolina. Their visit to the 
Springs had been prolonged beyond their inten- 
tion, but it had been so delightful they had found 


A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 93 

it hard to tear themselves away. Olive parted 
with her friends with real regret ; especially did 
she regret leaving Lottie Bell ; but there were 
visits in .contemplation which greatly softened 
the pang of separation. Only a short time was 
left for the mountain trip, two weeks at farthest, 
and now, according to recent arrangement, they 
were to meet a party of friends in “ cloudland ” 
upon the top of Roan Mountain. They remained 
a few days at the hotel upon its summit, then in 
private conveyances they visited all the peaks 
they pleased, took a leisurely ride through the 
romantic villages at their base, eating lunches 
by the roadside, drinking from every mountain 
stream that came gushing through iron tubes, 
icy ccld and clear, sleeping in tents, breathing in 
the pure, fresh, sweet air, then went on through 
Asheville, Hickory-Nut Gap, by Chimney Rock, 
to a picturesque village to take the C. C. C. 
Road, and soon reaching the Air Line again, 
had a delightful ride home over this delightful 
road. 

It was late Friday afternoon when the travel- 
lers reached the village of L . How glad 

they were to get back ! The children were hap- 
py to see the dog and kitty that ‘‘ Aunt Nancy " 
had taken good care of in their absence. Every- 
thing was found in good order ; fall roses were 
just beginning to don their richer robes, and 


94 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


clirysantliemums to show the streaks of color in 
their bristling cups. Never had home seemed 
so attractive, and Dr. Greyson declared, 

“It was a good thing to go away a while just 
to find out how sweet home is.” 

Olive thoroughly enjoyed getting back to her 
own quiet room ; but they had hardly time for 
quiet, for all day Saturday friends were calling 
to welcome the travellers home, and it was near- 
ly sundown when their pastor came to add his 
greetings to the rest. 

It was a bright, blue, crisp Sunday morning 
when Olive stepped into the Sunday-school room, 
and her five boys were there ready to give her a 
smiling welcome. They all loved her, and they 
were glad to have her back again. 

“ Did you have a pleasant trip. Miss Olive ?” 
asked one. 

“ Oh yes, indeed, Jack,” Olive replied. “ It 
has been a delightful summer, yet I am glad to 
get back, glad to see my boys again. Why, 
where is George Stovall ?” 

“ Had n’t you heard. Miss Olive,” said Jack, 
“ that soon after you left George’s aunt died sud- 
denly, and that his uncle from M came and 

took George home with him, and he is there 
now, working in his uncle’s grocery and getting 
good wages ?” 

“ Oh no, I had n’t heard it,” Olive exclaimed. 


A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 95 

“ I am SO sorry ! I would have been so glad to 
see George before he left.” 

He left a ‘ good-by ’ for you, Miss Olive,” 
Will Patterson said, “and he asked me to tell 
you that his one regret at leaving was that he 
would not have you for his Sunday-school teach- 
er. He said, too, that if you could find the time 
he would be glad to receive a letter from you 
now and then, that it would help him so much.” 

“ Oh I shall be glad to write to George. A 
boy in a big city like M has so many tempta- 

tions to encounter. Yes, indeed, I shall write to 
George at once.” 

George Stovall was an object of especial in- 
terest to Olive. He was not only an orphan boy, 
but he had neither brother nor sister, all having 
died of diphtheria when it went through the 
village as an epidemic. He stood alone, the sole 
representative of a family that had once num- 
bered six members. The only near relatives he 
possessed were an aunt living in Olive’s village, 

and an uncle in M . With this aunt he had 

lived until he was fifteen years of age, attending 
the public school in the village, for a little prop- 
erty had been left him from his father’s estate, 
enough to give him a moderate education ; but 
now that this was exhausted, and his aunt was 
dead, his uncle had offered him the position of 
clerk upon a fair salary. 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


96 

The six boys of Olive’s class were all about 
the same age, boys just entering manhood, and 
Olive felt the full responsibility of the charge. 
She constantly set before them the dangers be- 
setting the path of young men, and the necessity 
for grace that they might have strength to over- 
come. Her teaching often took the form of 
practical applications, and these she fitted to the 
cases of the pupils before her. Other classes 
might be listless, looking around the room for 
objects of diversion, while the teachers of these 
classes closed their books and sat back awaiting 
the tap of the bell which announced the hour for 
recitation ended. Not so with Olive and her 
class. The hour for teaching was always too 
short for her, and the tap of the bell brought 
disappointment to both teacher and pupil. She 
had accepted this class under a protest, when 
they were left without a teacher three years be- 
fore and the superintendent and pastor had 
urged her to take them. She had said she was 
too young and inexperienced to assume so grave 
a charge, but when the boys themselves sent her 
a written, earnest petition, she could resist, no' 
longer. Each Sabbath only convinced the su- 
perintendent and pastor of the wisdom of their 
selection. Olive had all the requisites of a suc- 
cessful teacher. She filled her mind full of the 
lesson in the first place ; then she prayed earnest- 


A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 9/ 

ly over every lesson, for every pupil individually, 
and especially for herself as teacher ; then she 
called into exercise her natural capacity to im- 
part instruction, her aptness at illustration, and 
she studied to make the lessons a pleasure ; yet 
she emphasized the practical truths so strongly 
that each face became solemn, and a spectator 
might well have imagined that from each lip 
was whispered the earnest inquiry, “ Lord, is it 
I ?” Once when the superintendent had re- 
quested each teacher to answer the question : 
“ When is a Sunday-school teacher’s work suc- 
cessful?” and drop the written reply in the hat 
at the door, without hesitation Olive wrote, 

“ When the pupils are brought to Christ.” 
And so Olive felt. Not only on Sunday 
morning did she try, but all through the week 
her boys lay upon her heart. If they were sick, 
she visited them ; if she met them on the streets, 
she was always ready with a smile and pleasant 
word ; and in her own room, upon her knees, 
they were continually remembered. 

Two of her boys had been brought to Christ, 
and had dated their conversion to Olive’s in- 
strumentality. Four were still out of Christ, and 
she could not rest satisfied until all were within 
the fold. For George, the orphan boy, her heart 
ran out with intense longing. He had not been 
converted, yet she was sure he was not far from 

7 


A Seemins Ti ifle. 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


98 

the kingdom of heaven. She had seen his lip 
tremble with emotion, his eyes glisten with tears, 
when she talked of a Saviour’s love, and she felt 
assured that George was almost persuaded to be 
a Christian. 

When she left for the summer months 
George had gone out in the country for a few 
days on business for his aunt, so she did not bid 
him “ Good-by,” and now he had left the town, 
and she was troubled; but in only an hour or 
two a letter would reach him, she knew, so she 
determined to write him at once. Monday 
morning brought visitors and fresh duties ; the 
unpacking of trunks and beginning life over 
again at home required time ; and in the rush of 
company and each day’s duties Saturday night 
whirled around so quickly that Olive in disap- 
pointment exclaimed, 

“ A whole week gone, and not a word to that 
dear boy yet !” 

Among her first duties upon Monday morning 
she wrote to George, and the very next mail 
bore this letter away : 


“ L , October 14, 18 — . 

My Dear George : — I cannot express the 
sorrow I felt upon my return home to hear that 

you had left L . I had not learned it until I 

went to my Sunday-school class ; and when I 


A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 99 

missed you and inquired for you, tlie boys told 
me you had left us, gone into the business world 
to begin life. How I wish I could have seen you 
once more before you went. I shall miss you so 
much ; we all will miss you ; but I shall feel the 
vacancy more than any one. You were always 
such a dear good boy, always such a regular, 
thoughtful, attentive pupil, and your bright, ear- 
nest face has helped me in my Sunday-school 
work more than you will ever know. I did not 
intend to wait so long before telling you this, but 
so many duties pressed upon my return, and the 
days flew so rapidly, I was scarcely conscious of 
the lapse of time. 

“ Now what shall I say to my dear absent boy ? 

“First, go to Sunday-school every Sabbath; 
be as punctual, regular, attentive, and helpful to 
your next teacher as you were to your last. 

“ Secondly, remember all I have said to 
you in times past. Do not forget prayer and 
reading God’s Word. Keep out of the way of 
temptation, but if thrust upon you, be firm in 
resisting. 

“Thirdly, seek your soul’s salvation. Oh, 
George, rather than hear that you were an heir 
to millions of dollars, I had rather hear that you 
were a humble follower of the Saviour. Then 
you would be an heir indeed, the son of a King, 
a prince, a co-heir with Christ. Do not push 


lOO 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


these thoughts from you, bear them about with 
you, behind your counter, at your work, every- 
where, and let your soul find no rest until it is 
safe in Jesus’ arms. I have prayed for your 
conversion long, yet the answer has been de- 
layed, why I cannot tell. Though you are away, 
I shall still remember you at the throne of grace, 
shall beg that God in his infinite mercy will 
keep you from the evil that besets your pathway, 
the many temptations of city ’life ; that he will 
mould you in his divine image, will make you a 
strong, healthy, stately tree in his spiritual gar- 
den. My heart has turned to you more tenderly 
than to any pupil I had, not because I did not 
see in the others nobleness of character and 
promise of a bright successful future, but because 
you were an orphan boy, left alone in a big, 
cold world to fight your way as best you could. 
Others had fathers to watch over and guide 
them ; you had none. Others had mothers whose 
love and prayers would prove a safeguard ; you 
had none. Others had brothers and sisters to 
cling to, to encourage, to stimulate by praise or 
warn by kind words ; you had none. All alone 
you stood without one near family tie ! I am jus- 
tified in loving you better, in praying for you more 
earnestly, in watching your future more intently, 
and the circumstances of your life abvSolve me 
from every charge of partiality. 


A FAREWELL CARD-PARTY. 


lOI 


“ Be noble, brave, and strong, but, dear 
George, above all things be a Christian, 

“Write to me, express your feelings freely, 
and be assured that no one loves you more and 
feels a deeper interest in you, than 
“ Your devoted teacher, 

“OLIVE GREYSON.” 


102 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


CHAPTER IX. 

TEMPTATION RESISTED. 

The reply that came was in. a boyish hand 
and was diffidently expressed, but it was full of 
thanks at the interest felt, and it reiterated 
Olive’s wish that soon he might be numbered 
among the people of God. Had Olive read the 
words only, she might have been disappointed at 
the reception of her warm letter, but beneath the 
careful words she could see a boy’s timidity war- 
ring with his suppressed emotions. 

Already George had been in M six weeks 

when Olive reached home, yet in none of the 
home letters she received was the death of his 
aunt and his leaving mentioned. It was only a 
boy leaving one home for another, and no one 
thought it necessary to mention the fact to her, 
never dreaming that such a trifling circumstance 
would be of vital interest. 

When George received her letter he went at 
once and joined the Sunday-school, but the 
teacher made none of the forcible appeals, the 
practical applications, that went home to his 
heart as Olive’s had done ; indeed, his new teach- 
er seemed to feel his duty performed when he 


TEMPTATION RESISTED. 


103 


asked the questions in the “Quarterly,” and if 
these consumed the full time of teaching he felt 
fully satisfied with his morning’s work. The re- 
sult was that George lost interest in his lessons, 
and would gladly have spent his time somewhere 
else, had he not felt bound by his promise to 
Olive to attend. Conversation was carried on 
between the boys notwithstanding the teacher 
was asking the questions, for as only one boy 
was e^cpected to answer at one time, each held 
his book up ready for his turn, but in the mean- 
time talking behind it to his next neighbor. 

“ George,” whispered Ned Winters behind 
his book, “ papa says he tliinks you are a good 
boy and he would like me to associate with you ; 
suppose you come out to our house this after- 
noon, and I ’ll give you a sail on our fish-pond. 
You know where we live, do n’t you ?” 

“Yes, I went around once with my uncle’s 
delivery clerk and saw your place. What a 
beautiful home you have, Ned ! I shall be glad 
to come when I can, but I hardly think Sunday 
afternoon the proper time for a sail.” 

“Oh but we will sing some Sunday-school 
songs first in our back-parlor, and sister Genie 
will play them for us. Mamma always likes 
us to sing Sunday afternoons, and we most al- 
ways do. You have n’t anything to do especially, 
I know, and your cousin Will isn’t at home to 


104 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


keep you company, and, as Sunday-school libra- 
ries seem to have gone out of fashion, you have 
no nice book to read, so come, wont you?” 

“ Thank you, Ned, I think I will. My Sunday 
afternoons have been very dull since I have been 
in the city.” 

The boys’ turn to answer had come around 
again, and they paused in conversation long 
enough to answer “ No, sir,” or “ Yes, sir,” and 
then Ned continued : 

“ Do n’t say you think you will, George ; say 
you ’ll come without any think about it. If you 
do n’t come you ’ll be walking around the streets 
for fresh air and exercise, and coming out home 
you ’ll get both ; and if singing Sunday-school 
songs isn’t good Sunday work, I 'd like to know 
what is. If your conscience is too tender to sit 
in our boat and let the wind ride you up and 
down a little, all right, we ’ll sit on terra firma 
and talk ; but, to save my life, I can’t see the dif- 
ference between riding on your own fish-pond 
and riding’ on somebody else’s street-cars. Say 
you ’ll come, George, and come about half-past 
three, wont you ?” 

Just then the bell tapped for the closing ex- 
ercises ; the boys joined in the closing hymn and 
then went out. 

It was with a thrill of delight that George 
started after dinner for his friend Ned’s home. 


TEMPTATION RESISTED. 


105 


Col. Winters was a rich banker who preferred a 
home in the suburbs away from the din, rattle, 
and dust of the city, where he could enjoy coun- 
try life, its green meadows, orchards, and vine- 
yards, with horses and Jersey cows, large vege- 
table garden, fish-pond, and plenty of space for 
fresh air and plenty of earth to raise his corn 
and clover. Col. Winters was a Christian man, 
and his family, though rich, never forgot their 
duty to their Heavenly Father. Their main 
carriage horses were always allowed to rest the 
entire Saturday so that they could do good ser- 
vice upon Sundays, for morning and evening the 
entire family attended church. Distance was 
never an excuse, neither were threatening 
clouds ; indeed, it took something very unusual 
to make this family absent themselves from the 
house of God. 

As he had passed in his buggy to and from 
the city. Col. Winters’ attention had been at- 
tracted by George’s industry in his uncle’s store, 
and, stopping often for some purchase, he was 
struck by his politeness to customers, gentle- 
manly bearing to all, and his close attention to 
business. These qualities in the make-up of a 
boy he knew would insure success in the man. 
A compliment from him was a compliment to 
be prized, and George appreciated it; appreci- 
ated too an invitation to the home of this Chris- 


I06 A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

tian family, and the willingness expressed that 
he should be the associate of his own son. 

The first Sunday afternoon was delightfully 
spent in singing and conversation, and al- 
together George thought it one of the most 
pleasant afternoons of his life. After this many 
Sabbath afternoons were spent at Col. Winters’, 
and George always received a warm welcome 
from every member of the family circle. Ned 
made no further proposals to sail, finding 
his friend decidedly opposed to boating on the 
Lord’s day. 

“ I cannot understand how it is, George,” said 
Ned one day, “ that you are so firm in your prin- 
ciples, even as consistent as a Christian in your 
every-day life, when you have had no home 
training at all, for I have understood that your 
parents both died when you were a little 
fellow.” 

“ I know but little of my parents, Ned, but 
my aunt, to whose care I was left, was a good 
woman and tried to teach me what was right. I 
owe a great deal to my aunt’s training.” 

“Yes, but she was a widow and had no chil- 
dren, and I hardly think she knew how to raise 
a boy, for I think boys need a peculiar kind 
of training. Now a girl is different; she can 
just grow up good; there is nothing to make 
her anything else. There ’s my sister Genie ; 


TEMPTATION RESISTED. 


107 


she is perfect. Why I should as soon look for. a 
storm under a blue sky as for her to do any- 
thing wrong. You see girls have no tempta- 
tions until they grow up young ladies, and if 
they have been trained right at the start, they 
will not have any trouble resisting the pleasures 
of the world, which are their main temptations. 
Genie will never be other than she is right now, 
yet if you were to talk to her about herself she 
would tell you how wicked she is; but you 
know her kind of wickedness does n’f amount to 
much.” 

“Oh but sin is sin, Ned, whether it be in 
Miss Genie, or in us, or in the most wicked of 
men. Your sister is a Christian, but you may 
depend upon it she has her temptations as well 
as you or I. I grant that boys are tempted 
more than girls, because they go out into the 
world, see more of its wickedness, and have to 
battle for themselves. Girls are hedged in on 
all sides; still they have their own wicked hearts 
to contend with.” 

“ But boys have these and the world too.” 

“Yes, boys begin to be soldiers early, and we 
have some tough fights, too. You spoke a mo- 
ment since, Ned, of my training, and wondered 
at my firm principles. I believe, before I came 
here, I had the best Sunday-school teacher in 
the world. I am not saying anything against 


o8 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


our present teacher, for he is a nice man, no 
doubt, and very intellectual, so every one says ; 
but I am not referring to him, only to my dear 
Miss Olive. She did not want to take our class 
of six boys, but our superintendent begged, and 
we sent her a written petition, and she finally 
consented. A married gentleman had been our 
teacher, but he moved away, and when we saw 
Miss Olive, so young, so beautiful, so lovely, we 
wanted her, but only because of these reasons. 

“ Oh, Ned, she was a teacher, I do assure you. 
She felt the full responsibility of us boys and it 
seemed to weigh upon her every Sunday — I 
might say all through the week. I am sure she 
prayed for us constantly. She used to say a 
Sunday-school teacher’s mission was to bring 
souls to Jesus, and if this was not done she was 
a failure. How she labored for this! We did 
not learn history, either ancient or modern, in 
our class, neither did we have entertaining anec- 
dotes of great men to chain our attention, but in 
every lesson she showed us Christ ; she brought 
him out so clear, so beautiful, the one thing of 
all things to be desired, and the old, old story 
sounded so strangely new, so v/onderfully sweet, 
from her lips, that our eyes were always dewy 
when we listened, as hers were when she talked. 
Many warnings she gave us about the temp- 
tations of Satan, of the world and its allure- 


TEMPTATION RESISTED. 109 

ments, of what it takes to make soldierly quali- 
ties in a soldier and in a boy, and clearly she 
pointed out our weakest points, the gaps in the 
wall where our enemy could assail us most 
successfully. I shall never forget her words; 
none of those six boys will ever forget them. 
Two became Christians, and how happy she was, 
but how she longed and prayed for the rest of 
us 1 Miss Olive has done much towards my right 
training, Ned. I owe very much to her. I hope 
I inherited some firmness of principle from my 
parents, but apart from this and my aunt’s train- 
ing, whatever is good in me is due to Miss 
Olive. I believe she is the best Christian, count- 
ing ministers in too, that I ever saw. Sodom 
would not have been destroyed had she lived in 
it, for I believe that for one such righteous soul 
as Miss Olive the Lord would have spared it. 
Oh no teacher lives like Miss Olive, and there 
are few Christians like her.” 

How comes it, George, that she did n’t 
make you a Christian with all her good teach- 
ing?” 

“She would be shocked to hear you speak 
so, Ned, for she has no power to make Chris- 
tians ; but she certainly did all she could, both 
by example and precept. I only wish I were as 
good as I know she is.” 

“ I only wish we had a teacher like IMiss 


no 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Olive now, George , we might be Christians too 
if we had. I don’t think our teacher realizes 
what it is to be a Sunday-school teacher. Why 
as to that, I can remember how the different 
teachers of the different classes look, sitting back 
when they are through with the lesson, smiling 
at everybody with such a self.-satisfied air, as 
much as to say, ‘ I have served the Lord for to-- 
day and am free.’ They gave attention to his 
work for about — well, perhaps twenty minutes — 
and that they think the extent of their duty. 
I only wish we did have a teacher like Miss 
Olive, don’t you, George?” 

“ Yes, Ned, but then a great deal of the fault 
may be in us, for if we felt more interest, per- 
haps our teacher would too. I ’ve often heard it 
said that ‘ the pews make the pulpit.’ ” 

How ’s that, George ?” 

“ Why, I ’ve heard it said that as are the 
pews so is the pulpit : if the hearers are listless 
the pulpit will be without any inspiration.” 

“Oh I think that is six of one and half a 
dozen of the other, for interesting preaching 
makes interested hearers.” 

“Yet the reverse is true too. Suppose, Ned, 
you and I go to work this week, study our lesson 
thoroughly, select all the points that interest us 
most, talk about them next Sunday to our 
teacher, and if there are any points we do not 


TEMPTATION RESISTED. 


Ill 


understand, let ’s question him upon these too, 
and see if we cannot start a new order of things 
in our class.” 

“All right, George, this pew is ready to 
improve the .pulpit. I’ll begin my lesson to- 
night.” 




12 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


CHAPTER X. 

f 

KEEPING A PLEDGE. 

K 

Mr. Stovall’s grocery, where George stayed, 
was a wholesale establishment and did a large 
business. Several doors above was another of 
like character, kept by Messrs. Ross and Foster. 
During the sickness and absence of one of Mr. 
Stovall’s clerks, George and his cousin Will, 
who had now returned, had been sleeping in the 
rear room of the store, and as some of the “ Ross 
and Foster ” clerks were taking a holiday, the 
two sons of this firm also occupied the back room 
of their father’s grocery, and these four boys 
were naturally thrown much together. A little 
supper had been given by the boys, first in one 
store and then in the other, of crackers, sardines, 
and cheese, these articles being taken from the 
different stores with their parents’ consent. At 
length, when Mr. Stovall’s clerk returned to 
take his place, the Ross and Foster boys deter- 
mined to give the Stovall boys a fine farewell 
supper. Heretofore- they had spread their sup- 
pers upon the top of a barrel with a brown pa- 
per for a table-cloth, but now they were actually 
going to have a table-cloth, knives, and forks 


KEEPING A PLEDGE. 


II3 

which they had brought from home. It was quite 
an elaborate affair that was to be given ; but not 
until business hours were entirely over, not un- 
til the city clock had tolled out ten, did the 
Stovall boys walk over for the farewell, treat. 

“Come in, boys,” called out Joe Ross when 
they made their appearance ; “ let ’s begin with- 
out ceremony.” 

“ What a royal supper !” exclaimed Will Sto- 
vall. 

“ That ’s just what we intended it should be,” 
said Jim Foster. 

Then they began to dish out raw oysters, for 
they were necessarily raw, since they did not 
know how to cook them ; but with vinegar and 
Worcestershire sauce they made out very well. 
Next came sardines and canned turkey, anddhese 
with crackers and baker’s bread they devoured 
with a relish. A part of the last course had been 
kept concealed as a great surprise, but the time 
had now come for the curtain to be lifted and 
the third act to be played, so Jim Foster, with 
quite an air of mystery, walked over to a dark 
corner and picking up two shining bottles of 
champagne, set one on each side of the pound 
cake that ‘decorated the middle of the table. So 
great was the surprise that for a moment it 
seemed that Will’s and George’s breath was 
taken quite away ; but while they looked all the 
8 


A Seeming Trifle. 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


1 14 

amazement they felt, they said not a word. Joe 
and Jim enjoyed their surprise and laughed 
heartily. At length Will Stovall said, 

“ I declare, fellows, you overpower us : first a 
good supper of substantials, and now cake and 
champagne !” 

“Yes,” Joe replied, “we wanted to wind this 
thing up in fine style, and knew nothing better 
for our purpose than champagne. Hurrah for 
the man who invented champagne ! Will you 
pop the cork, Jim?” 

“ I accept that honor,” said Jim, beginning to 
unwind the tiny wire that confined the cork. 

All this time George’s face was a study, but 
none of the boys had noticed it. Now the cork 
flew out, striking the ceiling, and the sparkling 
champagne began to overflow. Will’s glass was 
filled and another was pushed towards George, 
but he said gently, 

“No, thank you, Jim. I believe I prefer this 
water.” 

Jim was holding the bottle over another gob- 
let, but stopped pouring, so aghast was he at 
George’s speech. 

“ What ! refuse champagne, George ?” he ex- 
claimed. “ You surely cannot mean it !” 

“Yes, Jim, I must refuse it,” George replied 
carefully but coolly. “ I am under a pledge not 
to touch anything of this kind.” 


KEEPING A PLEDGE. 115 

Did n’t know we had one of the wishy-washy 
temperance-pledgers among our neighbors,” said 
Joe with a sneer. 

It was your mother made you promise, I 
suppose?” Jim asked with a rising inflection. 

“ No, Jim, both of my parents died when I 
was a little fellow. I have not actually signed a 
temperance pledge, but the promise I have made 
I feel to be as binding as a pledge written in 
black and white.” 

“Oh if it is only a promise,” said Joe more 
pleasantly, “that is brittle and can easily be 
broken. I have heard that rash promises should 
always be brolcen, and it was certainly rash to 
promise never to touch champagne. Come, 
think better of the matter, George ; be a man, 
and decide for yourself whether it is right or 
wrong.” 

“Yes,” continued Jim, “I do not say with 
Joe, ‘ Be a man,’ but be a gentleman, and decide 
what is the most gentlemanly course to pursue. 
If you refuse, you insult our judgment and con- 
sciences and generosity. I suppose it is hardly 
the proper thing to do to talk of prices in this 
connection, but these two bottles were the crown- 
ing expense of this occasion ; and. we thought 
champagne would be a capital thing to wind up 
an oyster supper with, to render it digestible, to 
warm us up, and make us sleep well afterwards. 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


1 16 

What are you afraid of, man? Not that cham- 
pagne will make you drunk, surely !” 

'‘No, Jim, it is not that; it is the beginning- 
of the habit I fear ; but apart from this, I ’ve 
promised.” 

“ Many church members drink champagne, 
George,” his cousin added. 

“That may be, Will, but I cannot. Please 
let us drop this subject and talk of something 
else. If you boys see no wrong in it, why drink 
away, as you are doing. I shall enjoy the cake 
with this glass of clear cold water far better.” 

The sipping and the eating went on a few 
moments in silence, and then Joe said, 

“ George, my curiosity is excited, and I want 
to know to whom you made that rash promise, 
if you do n’t mind telling.” 

“Not at all, Joe ; it was to my Sunday-school 
teacher.” 

“ Pshaw ! is that all ?” and Joe’s face was the 
picture of disgust. 

“Joe,” said George, laughing good-naturedly, 

“ do n’t get so upset by one glass of champagne. 

I certainly have enjoyed this nice supper, and 
sincerely thank you and Jim for your kindness, ’ 
and feel highly honored that you should have 
remembered us so generously, but please do n’t 
let us spoil a delightful evening by unkind feel- 
ings at its close.” 


KEEPING A PLEDGE. 


II7 

“So 1 say, Joe," said Jim. “ If George pre- 
fers water to champagne, why let him drink it ; 
water is cheap. Do n’t let ’s have any more 
words about it, but let the evening wind up as 
pleasantly as it began." 

“ There ’ll be the more champagne for the 
rest of us," said Will, as he turned his glass up 
to his lips and drained the last drop. 

“ Oh but this thing does not suit me at all," 
replied Joe decidedly. “It is a reflection upon 
the rest of us, and I verily believe we are just as 
good, just as sober fellows, as George Stovall. 
In my humble opinion it was a silly thing in a 
Sunday-school teacher, whether man or woman, 
to exact such a promise, and sillier still it was 
in that boy who was weak enough to make such 
a promise." 

“ Who was your teacher, George ?" Jim asked, 
willing to turn the conversation, seeing it was 
becoming so very unpleasant. 

“ She was a Miss Grey son, Jim, daughter of 

Dr. Greyson, of L . Joe would never call her 

‘ silly ’ did he know her. She saw in her class 
of boys six men who would some day go out to 
battle with the world, and every Sunday she tried 
fo draw such pictures of success and failure as 
we would never forget, telling us we were sol- 
diers, warning us to fight manfully, and that our 
greatest enemy was our own hearts. Her tern- 


8 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


perance talks were frequent, for she saw that 
drink was a terrible thing, and that the habit once 
formed held with death-like grip, and that a man 
once a drunkard seldom reforms. She talked to 
us of ‘ prohibition,’ ‘ high license,’ and all the 
plans that good men are originating to correct, 
the terrible evil, and she showed us that if each 
man would resolve never to touch a drop of any- 
thing spirituous, there would be no need of any 
other measure ; that this would be far better 
than even a national prohibition. Her class 
promised to begin the good work, and we sol- 
emnly pledged her our words as honest boys that 
we would become six sober men. Oh, Joe, if 
you only knew how pure, sweet, and beautiful 
she is, how earnestly she works for her Saviour, 
how hard she tried to put into our minds lofty 
resolves to be, with the help of God, noble Chris- 
tian pien, you would have looked up to her as 
the loveliest of her sex, you vrould have listened 
to her counsel, you would have loved her.” 

“Are you a professor of religion, George?” 
asked Jim. 

“No, Jim, I am sorry to say I am not a Chris- 
tian. Some • of our class were converted, but I 
was not one of them. I tell you, Jim, that 1 
would give everything I possess were I only 
like Miss Olive.” 

“ ‘ Mjss Olive,’ ‘Miss Olive Greyson,’ ” repeated 


KEEPING A PLEDGE. 


II9 

Jim thoughtfully ; “ that name sounds familiar 
to me. Let me see, I think I heard my father 
speak of a Miss Olive Greyson, but it cannot be 
the same, still the name is not a common one. 
Father and mother were at some springs in Vir- 
ginia a while this summer. I wonder if they 
could have met her.” 

“ Yes, I expect so,” said George, “ for Dr. Grey- 
son took his family on some such trip. I came 
away before she returned, but I have received 
two lovely letters from her since I have been 
here. I will show them to you boys some time.” 

It was getting late, the supper was over, 
though one bottle of champagne had not been 
opened. The two Stovall boys arose to leave, 
expressing warm thanks for the delightful en- 
tertainment and many regrets that their even- 
ing work at the store was now at an end. Every- 
body was in good spirits except Joe. A cloud 
rested upon his face and his manner had lost its 
usual cordiality, but George hoped that by morn- 
ing his good nature would be restored and that 
they would continue to be the good friends they 
had been before. 


120 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A SAD DISCOVERY. 

The boys met the next day, but Joe’s manner 
was still reserved, and it was evident to George 
that the wound of the evening before had not 
healed. 

“ I am sorry ,” George said to himself, “ but 
I must do what is right regardless of others’ feel- 
ings. I tried to be gentlemanly in my refusal, 
tried not to notice the hard things he said, though 
I felt my face flush with anger. I could not 
help remembering what Miss Olive had said 
about ruling one’s spirit and ‘ taking a city,’ and 
because I knew how self-control would please 
her I calmed myself, swallowed the angry words 
that kept rising, and passed his speech over in 
silence. Perhaps my motive should have been 
higher ; yes, I know it should ; yet I am sure 
when I follow her teaching I follow her Saviour. 
I wish I could say rny Saviour, but I cannot yet 
claim him as mine. I am sure she prays for 
me, for my safe keeping, for my conversion, and 
it is a comfort to feel that I am remembered, to 
know that my name is constantly repeated to 
God and blessihgs begged for me, though so un- 


A SAD DISCOVERY. 


21 


worthy. I trust in Miss Olive. I verily believe 
she is the best woman on earth.” 

There is no telling how long this soliloquy 
might have gone on, as George leaned against a 
sugar barrel with his eyes fastened on the floor, 
had it not been interrupted by the entrance of 
Joe, who came up to him and said, 

“ Come over to-night, George, as soon as you 
can.” 

“ All right,” George replied, glad to see that 
Joe had lost the coolness of the morning. As 
soon as he could he walked over to Ross and 
Foster’s, wondering what was the matter ; but no 
one was present but Jim and Joe, no sign of any 
supper about, only George saw the bright label 
of the champagne bottle shining under a shelf ; 
and the more he thought the more his wonder 
grew. Joe’s manner was rather more cordial 
than usual, but George took no notice, accepted 
the chair offered him, and conversation went on 
upon ordinary topics, till finally Jim said, 

“ George, did n’t you tell me that your Sun- 
day-school teacher’s name was Miss Olive Grey^ 
son ?” 

“Yes, Jim, that was her name.” 

“Was she the young lady you spoke of in 
such exalted terms, who made you six boys 
promise never to touch wine or liquor of any 
kind?” 


122 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Yes, Jim, it was the same one.” 

“ I told you last evening, George, that the 
name ‘ Miss Olive Greyson ’ sounded very famil- 
iar, that I thought I had heard my father speak 
of her, and I asked him last night. He said 
yes, he had met her at the Springs, that she was 
a beautiful, attractive young lady, that he had 
never seen one who had interested him more ; 
that she was unusually bright, had a musical 
laugh, large brown eyes, waving hair, a clear, 
rosy complexion, and pearly teeth. Is that the 
one, George ?” 

“Yes, that is a photograph of my teacher, 
and I am glad your father met her. She is all 
he described her to be and more too.” 

“ That is your Miss Olive, is it ?” 

“ It certainly is, Jim.” 

“ Well, my father says he watched her as 
she played an exciting game of cards and drank 
wine between the deals.” 

The words came slowly, and when the period 
was reached George’s face was white, and spring- 
ing to his feet he called out, 

“ Say that again ! Say that again !” 

The selfsame words were repeated, and then 
clenching his fists and rolling up his sleeves 
ready for a fight, he cried out, 

“You dare to say, sir, that my Miss Olive 
sat and played cards and drank wine ! It ’s 



A Seeming Trifle. Page 122 









A SAD DISCOVERY. 


23 


false, it 's a base fabrication, it 's a lie of the deep- 
est dye, and I dl whip the man who dares to 
utter such words about her.” 

‘‘Be calm, George,” said Joe; “don’t get so 
stirred up about such a trifle.” 

“‘Trifle,’ indeed! It’s no trifle, sir, to de- 
fame so angelic a woman. It ’s no time to be 
‘ calm ’ when such a Christian’s character is 
assailed, a Sunday-school teacher whose words 
were as pure and holy as heaven itself, who you 
say has fallen so low as to play cards and drink 
liquor. I ’m ready to defend her, sir, against 
young or old, the son or the father, it matters 
not which.” 

A policeman passing, hearing loud voices, 
rushed in, 

“ What does this mean ?” he exclaimed. “ A 
fight, hey. Come, young man,” laying his hand 
on George’s bare arm, “you must come with me 
if you can’t cool down.” 

Joe declared that no fight was imminent, that 
it was all a mistake and would soon be explained 
away, so, dropping George’s arm, the police- 
man reluctantly walked out. Poor George 1 He 
had sunk into a chair in an agony of feeling, 
and it was pitiful to see him. Even the boys 
were sorry for him, for until then they had 
had no idea of the hold that this teacher had 
upon his heart. At length Joe said soothingly. 


124 A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

“ It must be a mistake, George ; this cannot 
be your teacher, although the names coincide 
exactly ; but then it is not impossible for your 
Miss Olive to have a cousin with a similar name. 
Such things do happen sometimes, and it would 
be nothing so remarkable after all. You do not 
know her father’s name, do you, Jim?” 

J im drew a slip of paper from his pocket as 
he said, 

“ For fear of a mistake I asked my father 
for that Miss Greyson’s father’s name, and he 

gave these initials, ‘ Dr. L. M. Greyson, of L , 

Ga.’ ” 

George bent his head down upon the table 
and his strong young frame shook with emotion. 
The boys pitied him, yet they glanced across his 
bowed head and a smile passed between them. 
At length he raised "up and said in an altered 
tone, 

“Jim, forgive me if I was rude a moment 
ago. I felt that you were dashing my idol of 
perfect Christian womanhood to the earth and 
shattering it to pieces before my eyes. There 
is some mistake, boys, I am sure of it. I do not 
doubt, Jim, that your father saw one Miss Olive 
Greyson play cards and drink wine, but,” stri- 
king the table with his clenched fist, “ it was not 
my Miss Olive. I am as sure of it as though I 
had been there and seen for myself.” 


A SAD DISCOVERY. 12^ 

“ You can speak to my father about it to-mor- 
row if you choose, George,” said Jim. 

“ No, Jim, I shall write at once to Miss Olive. 
I shall write her this very night, and put the 
plain question to her ; and if she did — alas for 
George Stovall !” 


26 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


CHAPTER XII . 

A LETTER AND ITS EFFECTS. 

In a few hours Olive Grey son received the 
following note : 

“ Dear Miss Olive : — While at the Springs 
this summer did you ever play cards and drink 
wine? 

“ I do not believe it, but wish the ‘denial to 
come directly from you. 

“Your affectionate pupil, 

“ GEORGE STOVALL.” 

Olive held the little sheet in her hands a 
moment, and then burst into a flood of tears. 

“ O God,” she cried, “ what shall I say to that 
dear boy ! How can I admit to him this one 
false step !” 

Refusing supper, she paced the floor weep- 
ing and praying alternately until the night was 
far spent. After many efforts, which were 
thrown aside, she finally finished a letter to 
George which seemed to satisfy her. It covered 
several pages, and after a long explanation she 
wound up the letter with these words : 

“ I do not excuse my course ; nothing 

can justify it, and I am not trying to do it now, 


A LETTER AND ITS EFFECTS. 12/ 

only I cannot consent to let this letter go with- 
out these words of explanation. And now, dear 
^ George, your two questions are answered. Yes, 
I played cards and drank wine. 

“ My dear boy, I had rather make this con- 
fession to any one else than to 3^011. I have 
talked to you boys so much upon these two points, 
and now to think that I, your teacher, should 
have fallen so low as to be guilty of both sins ! 
Surely in that evil moment I must have depended 
upon my own strength and not upon my Saviour. 
God only knows how I have repented with bitter 
tears, and how gladly I would do anything to 
wipe that ten minutes out of my life. But 
alas ! it is there, a black blot that cannot be ef- 
faced. Oh would that I had remained at home 
and taught my Sunday-school class, and not gone 
away for the summer ! What shall I say to my 
boy ! Dear George, pray for me, your sinful, 
weak teacher, and try to forget these two acts 
of her life, and remember only the precepts she 
has tried to teach you, how she still prays for 
your soul to be anchored safely on Christ, the 
eternal Rock. 

“ May my Heavenly Father shower his rich- 
est blessings upon you, and keep you in the 
hollow of his hand, is the prayer of 

Your sorrowing teacher,' 

“OLIVE GREYSON.” 


128 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


How needless all these words ! Only six did 
George see. His eye skimmed along the lines 
until the words were reached, “ I played cards, 
and drank wine,” and then the letter was crum- 
pled in his hand and dashed behind a barrel in 
the corner of the store. This act as much as 
said, “ Explanation, justification there can be 
none.” For a few moments he stood lost in 
thought, and his uncle had to call him twice to 
wait upon a customer, and his manner was so 
abstracted that his uncle reproved him for it 
afterwards. 

Poor George ! His idol was truly dashed to 
the ground and shattered ! Had not the words 
burned before his eyes in her own handwriting 
he would never have believed them possible ; 
but now there was no mistake ; he could doubt 
no longer. All the afternoon when at work his 
manner was listless, his gaze vacant, as though 
his thoughts were miles away from his body. As 
soon as business hours were over he walked 
over to Ross and Foster’s, and going into the 
back room said to Jim and Joe, 

“ Well, boys, I have come to help you empty 
that other bottle of champagne, if it is not gone 
already.” 

“ Heigh ho, George, what has come over you 
to change* so suddenly?” said Jim. 

“ Well, Jim, you know I told you I would write 


A LETTER AND ITS EFFECTS. 


129 


to my teacher and find out the truth of your fa- 
ther’s assertion. Not that I doubted him in the 
least, only I could not believe that it was my 
Miss Olive, the woman who was my model in all 
things. Oh she was the pinnacle of perfection 
before whom I bowed ! It is all over now. She 
has fallen, and because I raised her so high the 
fall has been the greater, the more terrible. I 
feel now that I shall never put trust in any one 
again. I wrote her asking but two questions, and 
her reply reached me this afternoon. I can doubt 
no longer, Jim : it was my Miss Olive your father 
saw, the beautiful, fascinating woman, the warm, 
earnest Christian — she it was who played cards 
and drank wine. And now, boys, I said a night 
or two since that I only wanted to be as good as 
she. If she played cards, so can I. Bring out 
the spotted things ; I will learn. If she drank 
wine, so will I. Bring out your champagne and 
let us drain the bottle dry. Ha! ha! ha! No 
more warnings for me, no more life of self- 
restraint. From this time on I am my own mas- 
ter ; nobody’s precepts shall fetter me.” 

The two boys looked at George with amaze- 
ment. His face was deeply flushed and his 
manner excited as though with fever. They 
both had taken an occasional game of cards and 
drink of champagne, but since the supper and 
George’s firm refusal to touch either, they had 

X Seeming Trille. Q 


130 


^ SEEMING TRIFLE. 


begun to think seriously of quitting both ; for 
despite their jeers, his upright and manly course 
had filled them both with respect. Several days 
had passed since the supper, and still the cham- 
pagne bottle with its red and gilt label stood 
under the shelf, but not so far but George’s eye 
caught sight of it. Here was the model boy, the 
Sunday-school pupil who had rolled up his sleeves 
to defend his teacher with blows from charges 
preferred against her — here he stood with flash- 
ing eyes calling for cards and champagne, de- 
claring he would learn the one and drink the 
other. Truly here was a transformation, and 
for a few moments Jim and Joe were speechless 
with wonder. Unwilling to yield without a 
word, Jim said, 

“George, hadn’t you better put this thing 
off till to-morrow night? Joe and I were think- 
ing seriously of stopping these bad habits our- 
selves, and through your example; but if you 
are going to turn on our side there will be noth- 
ing left for us but to keep right on. Come, 
George, let ’s all quit and turn over a new leaf. 
What do you say?” 

“ No, sir,” replied George with emphasis, “ I 
am surely going to turn over a leaf, but it ’s a 
leaf backward. I do n’t see any use in trying to 
be good and abstaining from evil, if Christians, 
those way up on the ladder to heaven, can do 


A LETTER AND ITS EFFECTS. 131 

such things as drink and play cards. With all 
the Bible before them, the grace of God in their 
hearts, and all the light they have, if they can 
be guilty of such things I am sure such a sinner 
as I cannot be expected to keep on in the straight 
way without deviating. I Ve tried long enough 
to do right, and now I am going to quit trying 
and go my own way. An example has been set 
me and I am going to follow it closely. Good-by 
to good resolutions now. Hand out the cards and 
champagne, boys ; I think you will find an apt 
scholar in George Stovall.” 

Hadn’t you better think about it, George?” 
persisted Jim. “You are excited to-night; per- 
haps you will repent to-morrow morning.” 

“No, Jim, I ’ve quit such foolishness as re- 
penting. Hand out your bottle, I tell you. If 
you don’t I shall go to the first saloon and get 
something stronger, for I tell you I ’m bound to 
break my promise to-night, for I ’m desperate 
and ready for anything.” 

It was strange how reluctantly the two boys 
brought out their cards and bottle and set them 
before George. Somehow they felt that a noble 
life was about to be wrecked, and they had come 
to the conclusion that while such things might 
be tolerated in themselves, in such a good boy 
as George they were positively wrong. George 
grasped the cards eagerly, anxious to learn to 


132 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


play, and with a steady hand carried the glass 
to his lips and drank. Jim and Joe touched the 
champagne but lightly, but George drained the 
bottle dry, and when the evening was far spent 
he arose with a flushed face and unsteady step, 
bade his friends ‘ Good night,’ and went home. 


STEPS DOWNWARD. 


133 


CHAPTER XIII. 

STEPS DOWNWARD. 

Olive watched the mail intently, hoping for 
a response to her letter ; but though weeks passed, 
none came. Uncertain as to its reception, and 
anxious to know, she wrote again ; but no reply 
came to this second letter written. Her friend 
Agnes Maitland lived in the same city with 
George, and she wrote to her ; but she could only 
tell her that in Mr. Stovall’s store she had often 
seen a handsome boy moving energetically about, 
and upon inquirer she had learned that it was Mr. 
Stovall’s nephew, but more than this she could 
not tell. George then was in the city, he was 
still with his uncle, and must have received her 
letters, but she could not account for his silence. 

Never in all of Olive’s life had she prayed so 
much and so fervently as she had since her return 
from her summer outing, never had she so much 
felt the need of prayer. She had prayed in bitter 
tears for forgiveness, and believed that her Heav- 
enly Father had looked in pity upon her and 
pardoned her weakness. It was a comfort to 
her that the five boys of her class knew noth- 
ing of her misstep, and more earnestly than ever 


134 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


she talked to them of resisting temptation, not 
yielding for a moment, of the importance of 
being always on the alert for Satan. Her one 
great tearful regret was that George knew. He 
was such a strong character too, so independent 
and sturdy, all alone in the world, standing like 
a strong young oak, bending before the wind, 
but only bending. She counted upon him in the 
world, she knew his strength, his inflexible pur- 
pose, his brave determination to do his whole 
duty in life ; and now how could he bear weak- 
ness in one he leaned upon, one in whom he 
implicitly trusted ? What effect would her weak- 
ness have upon that orphan boy? These were 
questions constantly before her that would not 
be pushed aside. 

In her Sunday-school lesson for the week 
these words pierced her like a dagger : 

“In matters of right and wrong no hair’s 
breadth of concession should ever be made, and 
none can be made without giving up all. In 
this world full of urgent voices calling on us to 
do wrong, our safety is in absolute refusal.” 

Again, a writer speaking of Pilate, said : 

“ He stands as a terrible example of the wick- 
edness which may come from weakness, and 
of the danger of trifling in the smallest degree 
with the strict lines of duty. Since we know 
so little of what may be the issues of our acts. 


STEPS DOWNWARD. 


35 


we should give the more earnest heed to keep 
their motives pure, lest, like this man, we should 
do worse things than we know.” 

While Olive is writhing under the lashes of 
her conscience, let us look again at George. 

He had been working hard in his uncle’s 
store night and day, and feeling weary upon the 
night he went to Ross and Foster’s, he had 
found the champagne pleasant, its effect delight- 
ful. At first he was satisfied, since he had defi- 
antly broken his promise, and for several days 
he exulted in the thought : as, however, the 
heated term continued, he began to think that 
a little stimulant prudently indulged in might 
prove a good medicine, atonic his system needed; 
so small bottles of wine were secreted about 
his uncle’s store and sipped as occasions pre- 
sented themselves. But wine was too^ostly, and 
when he complained at the saloon where he pur- 
chased, it was suggested that a much smaller 
amount of whiskey would answer, at a much 
smaller cost. Whiskey was bought, but the first 
flask weighed so heavily upon his heart that it 
was several days before he could persuade him- 
self to touch it. From the afternoon when Mr. 
Stovall saw George reading a letter when he 
seemed so abstracted that he had to call him twice 
before he could get his attention, he had noticed 
a change in his nephew. He could not account 


136 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


for it, but feared he was on the verge of a spell 
of illness. Lately he had observed an unstead- 
iness in his walk, and fully assured that George 
needed medical attention, he determined to send 
him home early and summon his family phy- 
sician. Needing some tool which had been mis- 
placed, he determined to find it himself and not 
call upon George, who, he persuaded himself, was 
sick. Rummaging in an old barrel of rubbish 
for the missing article, what was his utter amaze- 
ment to find a small flask of whiskey, half of 
which had been used ! Almost paralyzed with 
astonishment and grief, he stood revolving in his 
mind what course to pursue, and then he stooped 
down, replaced the flask, and put the rubbish 
back, forgetting to look further for the tool he 
had been wanting. He knew the truth now. It 
was not disease, but drink, that was the matter 
with George. 

Mr. Stovall was a wise man. Not a word did 
he say to his nephew until he had retired for 
the night, and then he went to his room, sat by 
his bedside, and in the dark began stroking the 
boy’s head affectionately, saying as he did so, 

“ George, my dear boy, I have felt worried 
about you lately, for I feared you were not well, 
and I intended to send for Dr. Preston to-night 
that he might prescribe for you.” 

“ I am not sick, uncle ; I do not need medical 


STEPS DOWNWARD. 


137 


advice ; indeed I think I have felt better than 
usual lately. Please do not trouble about me, 
uncle ; you have enough to care for without my 
adding to your burdens.” 

“ But, my dear George, I cannot help troub- 
ling about you. You have changed lately, my 
boy. I thought it was due to sickness, but this 
afternoon in the rubbish of an old barrel I 
found — what did I find, George ?” 

Truthfully the answer came, without a tremor 
of hesitation, 

A flask of whiskey, uncle.” 

There was a silence of several minutes, and 
in the^ darkness Mr. Stovall pushed the curls 
back from George’s brow slowly and tenderly, 
and then said, 

“Yes, my dear boy, that was what I found, 
and I cannot tell you how shocked I was. How 
long has this been going on, George?” 

“About two weeks, uncle ; never before.” 

“ Did you know, George, that your father fills 
a drunkard’s grave ?” 

“Oh no, sir!” and George sprang up and sat 
upright in bed. “ Uncle, is it true that my fa- 
ther was a drunkard?” 

“ I am sorry to tell you this, my boy, but 
your father, my dear brother, lived and died a 
drunkard.” 

“ Oh, uncle, I did not dream of this ! There 


138 A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

was always a mystery about my father that I 
could never -unravel. Aunt Mary was always 
ready to talk of my dear mother, said no lovelier 
woman ever lived than she, and she has pictured 
her to me so often ; but when I asked about my 
father she always sighed and grew silent.” 

“ Your aunt Mary was your dear mother’s sis- 
ter, and she knew her troubles as a drunkard’s 
wife. My brother loved his wife and children with 
deep devotion, but he could not burst the thral- 
dom of drink, and after years and years of strug- 
gling he died in delirium-tremens. They had 
lost every child but yourself from diphtheria, 
and finally your dear mother laid down her 
poor aching head, folded her tired hands, and 
went to heaven. Will you follow your father, 
my boy ?” 

“ Oh no, uncle, never ! Oh I thank you so 
much for telling me this sad story.” 

“ I would not have exposed your father’s 
weakness except for your good, my dear boy. He 
was one of the noblest, most generous, most tal- 
ented men I ever knew ; but his thirst for drink 
was insatiable. I never saw a man struggle hard- 
er than he did to conquer ; but when he found 
his business gone, that friends had lost confidence 
in him, he sank under the overwhelming mor- 
tification, drank deeper to drown his wounded 
pride, and died. Be warned, George, by the 


STEPS DOWNWARD. 


139 


sad fate of your noble father, and let liquor in 
every form alone. You cannot afford to tamper 
with it.” 

‘‘ Oh no, indeed, I cannot. Thank you again, 
my dear uncle, for telling me all this. I must, I 
will, let the dreadful stuff alone.” 

“ Remember, George, that there are heredi- 
tary taints of various kinds in many families, 
and in ours there may have come down through 
a long chain of ancestors a love ‘of strong drink. 
Beware that this hereditary love descend not 
from your father to his son. I am a firm believer 
in heredity. If diseases, talents, family charac- 
teristics are transmitted, so also can this love for 
drink, this craving for a stimulant, descend from 
one generation to another. My dear boy, let it 
alone now and for ever. Tell me, has Willie ever 
touched liquor in any form? Your aunt and I 
hkve always been so particular never to have 
anything of the kind in the house, and she will 
not even flavor her sauces with wine lest this 
hereditary love may be developed : but tell me, 
George, did you ever know Willie ever to touch 
anything of the kind ?” 

“ For my cousin’s good I will tell you this, 
uncle. An evening or two before he left for 
college, Jim and Joe gave us a supper and they 
had champagne. At that time I refused to touch 
it, but Willie drank with them. Afterwards I 


140 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


drank champagne myself, and this was the be- 
ginning of my downward course.” 

“ Oh, George, my boy is in danger ! Thank 
you for telling me this. I must go at once and 
write him a letter of warning. Good-night, my 
dear boy. God bless you,” and bending over, his 
uncle pressed a warm kiss upon his forehead. 


LIQUOR AND CIGARETTES. 


I4I 


CHAPTER XIV. 

LIQUOR AND CIGARETTES. 

“Where have you been these several Sun- 
days past?” Ned asked George in Sunday-school 
the next Sabbath. “ I have missed you so much. 
Haven’t been sick, have you?” 

“ Well, no, not exactly, yet I have not been 
very well. A fellow that has to work as hard as 
I do all the week does n’t feel like being cooped 
up in Sunday-school and church the whole of 
every Sunday.” 

“ I thought you enjoyed coming to Sunday- 
school. It has been fine lately, George, our teach- 
er has become so much more interesting since 
the pews have shown more interest. I am so 
glad you told me about that. The other boys 
are beginning to ask questions too, and last Sun- 
day our teacher tried the Chinese method of 
teaching ; that is, he turned pupil and we were the 
teachers, and we drew out all of the truths of the 
lesson by asking him questions. It was so nice. 
I tell you it was, and we all enjoyed it. He says 
he is going to try this plan once in a while just 
to test our knovdedge of the lesson. I hope you 
have some good questions to ask.to-day, George.” 


142 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“ No, Ned, I have n’t any. The truth is I 
haven’t looked at the lesson. I only came to 
get a Quarterly and find out which the next 
lesson is.” 

“ Coming out to our house this afternoon ?” 
Ned whispered again. 

“ Perhaps so,” was whispered back. 

“ What ’s the matter with you, George ? you 
seem so indifferent to everything.” 

“ Am I ? Well, perhaps I am.” 

“Just listen to that again. You sound to me 
as if you were going into typhoid fever. It’s 
an awful disease, and they say there ’s a great 
deal about just now. You ’d better see the doctor, 
George, and right away, too. When anybody ’s 
sick at our house. Dr. Gillyard feels the pulse 
and says, ‘The secretions are locked up.’ Now I 
don’t know what that is exactly, whether it’s 
as dangerous as typhoid fever or not, but I 
shouldn’t wonder if that was the matter with 
you. Come out this afternoon and let mamma 
doctor you ; she ’s the best doctor in this city for 
light cases, such as I hope you ’ve got. Will 
you come, George ?” 

“Yes, Ned, I ’ll come, but I do not need any 
doctoring though.” 

The Sunday-school proved unusually dull to 
George. He did not ask or answer any ques- 
tions, but all the class were fully awake to the 


LIQUOR AND CIGARETTES. 


143 


lesson, and his silence and moodiness were not 
noticed, or if noticed, were not commented upon. 
The morning service would have proved particu- 
larly interesting to any one whose mind had not 
been preoccupied. The music was inspiring, the 
sermon a rare treat, an able discourse on “ Love,” 
so full of apt and beautiful illustrations, so full 
of tender entreaty, that not only was every eye 
intent upon the speaker, but tears were there, 
telling that the emotions were deeply stirred. 

In the afternoon George turned his steps 
towards Col. Winters’. He had not been there 
for some time, and he did not as usual walk up 
the front walk like a man and ring the door-bell. 
Instead, he crept along by a high fence, hoping 
to catch a glimpse of Ned, and he did not wait 
long before Ned walked out upon the front 
veranda and looked down the street to see if 
he were in sight. George called him, and Ned 
ran out and invited him to come in. 

“ I can’t come in this afternoon, Ned,” he said. 

“ Oh yes, George,” Ned insisted. “ Genie has 
bought some new Sunday-school song-books, and 
they have such lovely pieces in them. Come 
in and let ’s sing some of them. Genie is at the 
piano now.” 

“ I cannot sing this afternoon, Ned. I have a 
cold and am entirely too hoarse to sing. J will 
take a stroll with you, if you like, but I can’t 


144 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


come in this afternoon. At some other time I 
would be glad to try the songs, but not now.” 

“ Where shall we go then ?” 

“ Down to your fish-pond, if you like. I have 
never been there, you know, and am anxious to 
see it.” 

“ All right, only I thought you objected to 
going down there once, preferred to go in the 
house and sing Sunday-school songs.” 

“ To sailing, yes, but not to sitting in the boat 
and talking while it is tied to the shore. I love 
to sing too, but like to vary the order of exercises, 
you know. Oh what a lovely fish-pond ! I never 
saw such beautiful water-lilies before, and there 
are so many varieties. What a splendid place ! 
Let ’s sit in the boat yonder and enjoy these 
beauties while we talk.” 

They took their seats, and after talking an 
hour Ned exclaimed, 

“ Why, I came near forgetting something. 
We had syllabub and cake for dinner, and mam- 
ma set aside two glasses so you and I could have 
some after we sang a while. As you have a cold 
and don’t feel like singing, I will go in and 
bring the waiter out here.” 

“ That was certainly very kind in your mo- 
ther, Ned; please return my very sincere thanks 
to her.” 

Across the lawn came Ned, a dainty waiter in 


LIQUOR AND CIGARETTES. I45 

his hands holding two goblets of frothy syllabub 
and a plate of beautiful cake. 

“ What a treat this is !” exclaimed George. 
“ I do n’t know when I have tasted syllabub 
before.” 

‘‘ Does n’t your aunt have it ?” 

“No, she is very strict about such things, will 
not put a drop of wine in her sauces, and of 
course never has syllabub. This is perfectly 
delightful.” 

“Mamma is very temperate, too, but she 
does n’t feel it important to be so awfully strict 
as that. She always uses the wine she makes 
from our own vineyard, and I do n’t think home- 
made wine ever does any harm. I must con- 
fess that sauces without any wine flavoring taste 
very flat. You do n’t disapprove, do you, George ?” 

“ Not at all, Ned. I think your family are 
models in everything. I would follow them 
blindly without a single question, and I believe 
they are right upon the wine question. To 
prohibit entirely makes one want to do the very 
thing prohibited : this is human nature, and 
you know if the bow is strung too tight it will 
fly back the other way. I hate to oppose my 
opinion to uncle’s, when he is so good too, but 
I think they are rather too strict, and believe 
your parents are just right.” 

“ I am glad you think so, George, for I believe 


A Seeming Trifle. 


10 


46 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


it too. Now, there ’s mamma, she would never 
offer a glass of even home-made wine to any- 
body, for we never think of using it as a beverage. 
She makes blackberry wine and cordial for sick- 
ness, makes grape wine too, and uses a little in 
flavoring and syllabub. I carried a glass of sylla- 
bub out to our driver, old Jerry, the other day. 
He used to love his grog, but keeps sober here, 
for he knows he could n’t hold his place a day 
with us if he drank. You ought to have seen 
him bowing and scraping his thanks ; and hold- 
ing it in his hand a minute, he said, ‘ Little mas- 
ter, you kin have all the ‘‘ sylly ” if you ’ll jest 
leave ole Jerry the “ bub ” at the bottom.’ ” 

The boys laughed, and George said, 

“ That was the wine at the bottom the old 
man loved, and to tell the truth, syllabub would 
be nothing without it.” 

By this time both syllabub and cake were 
gone, and the boys were chatting away, when 
suddenly George put his hand in his breast pocket 
and drew out a bunch of cigarettes. 

“Why, George!” exclaimed Ned in great as- 
tonishment, “ I did n’t know you smoked 1” 

“ I do n’t, except cigarettes ; they are not any- 
thing much. ‘Try one yourself, Ned, and you 
will see that they are nothing more than the 
leaves we little fellows used to smoke and call 
‘ rabbit-tobacco.’ ” 


LIQUOR AND CIGARETTES. 


147 


They look so pretty, I feel inclined to try 
one, but what about the breath ? Wont that tell 
on a fellow?” 

“ I always put some of these silver-coated 
pellets in my mouth after smoking, and let them 
melt slowly, and this entirely destroys the odor. 
You can try one if you wish.” 

Ned took a cigarette in his fingers, twirled it 
about in an uncertain way, and finally accepted 
a match, struck it, lighted the end of the cigar- 
ette, gave a puff, and cried out, 

“ This is stylish ! It ’s fine ; I like it. How 
fragrant they are !” Puff, puff, puff. “ I ’m 
afraid to smoke a whole one at first. Heigh ho ! 
what ’s the matter with my head ? It feels so 
funny. I must quit. There, mine has gone down 
to the bottom of the pond. I wonder what makes 
my head reel around so. I feel as if I were 
tumbling over.” 

“ Lean your head over the boat and bathe 
your head in the water ; it will be all right in a 
moment.” 

Give me some of those silver-coated things, 
quick, George ; I think I hear somebody coming. 
Whew ! what would mamma and Genie say if 
they knew I ’d been smoking !” 

“ If you think they would object you had 
better not smoke any more, Ned. Nobody has 
ever told me not to smoke cigarettes, nobody 


148 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


but Miss Olive, and she does things worse than 
this.” 

Why, George, you told me she was perfect.” 

“ I have found out better since then. Have 
the pellets melted ?” 

“ Yes; now see if you can smell my breath.” 

“ Not a particle, would never know you had 
been within a hundred miles of a cigarette. Is 
your head all right now?” 

“ Oh yes, I ’m steady now. My head felt 
queer, though, I tell you it did. I don’t believe 
I was ever cut out for a smoker.” 

“You would soon get used to it, as I have. 
Why, I can smoke one cigarette after another 
and never feel it ; but, Ned, if you think your 
parents would object to your smoking, you had 
better let cigarettes alone. No one has ever for- 
bidden me to use them, and I , shall keep on. 
It is my money I spend, and if there is any 
harm in cigarettes, then it is my health I in- 
jure, so no one has any right to say a word.” 

“ I heard papa say one day, George, that the 
use of tobacco excited a thirst for something 
stronger, and there is tobacco in these cigarettes, 
so you had better mind what you are doing.” 

“ Precious little tobacco there is in these 
things ; not enough to hurt a baby. I ’ll run the 
risk of the thirst for liquor, Ned. If I never do 
worse than smoke a little innocent cigarette or 


LIQUOR AND CIGARETTES. 


149 


two, I ’ll be a saint. Do n’t let me influence you, 
though ; do as you think right and as your pa- 
rents would have you do, regardless of me.” 

“ Papa has an exalted opinion of you, George. 
He says he had rather I would have you as my 
friend than any boy he knows, and mamma and 
Genie are so glad for you to come here Sunday 
afternoons. They say they feel sorry for a boy 
without any mother or father, without any home, 
in a city like M .” 

“ I thank all your family for their interest in 
me and the kind welcome I always receive from 
them. I assure you, Ned, however I may appear, 
I do thoroughly appreciate it, and trust none of 
you may ever have reason to regret your friend- 
ship.” 

“ Regret it ! Of course not, George. What 
are you talking about! What has come over 
you, anyway ? You always were so strong and 
had so much self-respect — mamma called it self- 
assertion, that ’s the word— that it made every- 
body acknowledge your manliness and independ- 
ence. Now I am two years older than you, but 
papa says I lack some qualities which you pos- 
sess in an eminent degree, and one is, you think 
for yourself and act for yourself. He wants me 
to cultivate these qualities, but I do n’t know how 
to go about it exactly. He says I am not inde- 
pendent enough, that I am too easily influenced. 


150 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


and that he fears for me unless I have the very 
best associates. How came you to have so much 
independence and self-reliance, George ?’' 

“A boy alone in the world, Ned, is forced 

to be independent and self-reliant. If I do n’t 

think for myself, who will? You will always 

have somebody to stand by you and help you 

fight your way through the world, but as for 

me, I stand alone without money and without 

friends. Uncle is as kind as he can be, but he 

has his own children to look after, so I cannot 

/ 

expect much from him.” 

“ But, then, George, you have already had 
good training. You know there was your aunt, 
and then I have heard you say that the appeals 
and warnings of your Miss Olive had more ef- 
fect upon you than — ” 

“ Let ’s stop there, Ned ; it is getting late and 
I must be going.” 

George arose hastily, said it was time for him 
to leave, sent thanks to Mrs. Winters for her 
treat, and promised, if possible, to come again 
the next Sunday afternoon to try over the new 
Sunday-school song-books which Genie had pur- 
chased. 


TEMPTATION YIELDED TO. 


51 


CHAPTER XV. 

TEMPTATION YIELDED TO. 

The conversation with his uncle had made a 
deep impression upon George. The history of 
his father’s life and death clouded his spirits for 
days. Constantly before him was the picture of 
his lovely mother struggling with poverty for 
her little children, then of laying them side by 
side in the churchyard ; of her faithfulness in 
ministering to her raving, besotted, dying hus- 
band, then of her folding her weary hands above 
her broken heart and going to rest. Sad and 
gloomy was the panorama of the past, and touch- 
ing to think that he of all that sorrowful group 
alone remained. No marble marked the spot of 
any grave ; side by side they lay, the grass and 
daisies their only covering. 

“ I have no living relatives to care for,” he 
said with deep feeling, “ so I consecrate my first 
earnings to my dead.” 

They were his, he claimed them, and it was 
all in this broad world he felt that he could call 
his own, this one spot of earth where father, 
mother, two sisters, and a baby brother lay. 

The flask of whiskey had been emptied upon 


52 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


the ground, the bottle crushed beneath his heel 
as though it were a living enemy, and George 
raised his head determined to grapple with and 
conquer his growing appetite. The thought that 
there might be in his nature a hereditary love 
for spirits descending though his father made 
him shudder, and he resolved to quench it or 
die in the attempt. 

It had been two weeks since he had demanded 
the champagne of Jim and Joe, and from that 
•time he had indulged in some form of stimulant, 
and lately he had exchanged the feebler wine 
for the stronger whiskey. It was true he had 
touched lightly, but even this little had impart- 
ed to his system a fictitious strength, and now 
that he had abstained from all he found himself 
weak, feeble, trembling, miserable. Till now 
he had never smoked ; but feeling the need of 
something, he tried a cigarette ; and as the effect 
was decidedly pleasant, he smoked another, and 
soon this habit grew, until he felt it impossible 
to quit. No one had warned him of cigarettes, 
so he felt that, though this was a compromise, 
yet he was safe. True, his mind would some- 
times run back to the times when Miss Olive 
had warned her class of the evils of smoking, 
when they promised her never to touch tobacco 
in any form ; but that day had passed, and he 
felt that no promise he had ever made her was 


TEMPTATION YIELDED TO. 1 53 

binding, a woman who could go so far astray, 
and she a Christian. He was trying to forget 
her as fast as* he could, and he was succeeding 
well. 

For a week now George had refrained from 
stimulants except cigarettes, but, as soon as he 
tasted of the syllabub, the wine in it fired his 
thirst again, inflamed his appetite, and he felt he 
must have more. In this condition he drew out 
his cigarettes, then hurrying away from Ned 
for fear his feelings might betray him, he lighted 
another cigarette and started home. Two, three, 
even four cigarettes failed to satisfy him ; and 
finding himself unfit for evening service, he ex- 
cused himself to his uncle’s family and retired. 
The next morning at an early hour he hurried 
over to Ross and Foster’s, and finding Joe in the 
office, said in a whisper, 

“Joe, I would give five dollars for a drink of 
whiskey. It looks as if I ’ll die if I do n’t get it.” 

“ Why, heigh ho, George !” exclaimed Joe in 
surprise, “ do you drink whiskey ? I thought you 
were a good Sunday-school boy tied to a good 
Sunday-school teacher’s apron-string.” 

“ Hush, sir, no more of that if you please and 
George spoke angrily. “ Once I was a good Sun- 
day-school boy, but that time has passed. I quit 
that role the night I called for your cards and 
drank your champagne. I was cured of that 


54 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


nonsense, cured by that same good Sunday-school 
teacher. But enough. Have you anything to 
drink here ? Tell me quick, for I ’ve got to have 
it, and that quick.” 

“ There is nothing here, George, but perhaps 
I might possibly get you a drink of something 
for the five dollars you offered just now. Show 
your bill and I’ll run the risk of getting you 
some whiskey and hiding it for you.” 

“ Here ’s the money ; uncle paid me up Satur- 
day night. This was devoted to a worthier ob- 
ject, but I must have some whiskey ; so take it 
and now go quick.” 

Joe crumpled the note in his hand, crept 
out of the back-door, but in a few minutes re- 
turned and beckoned to George, who turrfed the 
flask up to his lips eagerly a moment, then went 
to tiis work. All the morning he kept away from 
his uncle for fear he might notice the fumes 
upon his breath, and there was excitement in his 
manner, a flush upon his brow, an unusual light 
in his eye, but it was a busy day and his uncle 
did not notice. At noon urgent business called 
him into Ross and Foster’s back-room again, and 
this time turning to Jim and Joe, he said, 

“I’m tapering off, boys, you see ; help your- 
selves ; it ’s my treat.” 

After he had gone Joe turned the flask up to 
his lips, saying. 


TEMPTATION YIELDED TO. 1 55 

As long as it costs nothing, here goes. This 
much for rent and risk of discovery.” 

“How does it taste, Joe?” asked Jim. “I 
never tasted whiskey in my life.” 

“ It ’s vile stuff, but I tell you it makes you 
feel brisk and lively. Try some.” 

“ Hand it over. Whew ! it ’s perfectly horrid, 
scalded my throat from one end to the other. It 
is to be hoped the effects will be better than the 
dose. Whew ! it ’s all up in my head. I feel 
topsy-turvy. Joe, I must lie down a while, I must 
nap this thing off. Please tell father. But no, 
I believe I feel better ; it ’s taking effect. Hur- 
rah !” 

In Joe’s pocket was a large part of George’s 
money, which he kept without scruple. His father 
was a close business man, so close that everybody 
was shy of him, so close that his trades bordered 
on dishonesty, but he only laughed and called 
himself “ sharp.” Joe promised to be a “ chip off 
the old block,” for though only a boy of fifteen, his 
mercenary habits were fast showing themselves. 
His rule was “ Keep all you ’ve got, get all you 
can,” so he caught at George’s offer, said business 
was business, that George’s change was nothing 
to the risk he was running, including a small 
rental fee, and when he turned the bottle to his 
own lips it was with a chuckle of satisfaction that 
it cost him nothing, that if George was goose 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


156 

enough to throw his money and whiskey away, 
it was none of his lookout. It had been a big 
stretch of generosity that he shared in the suppers 
given by himself and Jim to Will and George, 
but here his love of fun counterbalanced his love 
of money. 

George found “ tapering off ” to be difficult. 
In truth, each day seemed to require a larger 
drink, until he often found it hard to walk. As 
this was the busy season his uncle did not notice 
his condition ; indeed, so sure was he of the effect 
of his conversation upon his nephew that he felt 
no other warning was needed. It was now no 
uncommon thing for George to spend his even- 
ings with Jim and Joe, playing cards and drink- 
ing. At length Joe laid his plans to play for 
“ stakes and opened the game by offering to play 
for nickels. He lost, George won. Drinking and 
gambling were now the order of the evenings, 
and George as often lost as won. Larger and 
larger stakes were put up, and at last, one even- 
ing, when beside himself with liquor, George not 
only lost all that remained of his last month’s 
pay, but he gave his note for his next month’s 
wages too. F illed with mortification and chagrin, 
he would not go home ; and when his uncle en- 
tered his store next morning there lay George 
upon some bags of flour in the deep sleep of 
drunkenness ! 


SAD TIDINGS RECEIVED. 


157 


CHAPTER XVI. 

SAD TIDINGS RECEIVED. 

“ Miss Olive, did you know that George 
Stovall was drinking?” 

“ What ! What was that you said, Arthur ?” 

This was Olive’s greeting one morning in 
Sunday-school. The boy said again with a little 
tremor in his voice, 

I asked if you knew that George was 
drinking.” 

What a terrible shock ! For a moment Olive 
sat like a stone, speechless from grief and as- 
tonishment. At length in a hoarse whisper she 
said, 

'‘Arthur, are you sure ? How do you know ? 
Who told you ? Oh it cannot be true !” 

“Yes, Miss Olive, I think it is true. I cannot 
doubt it, sad as it is. They say his uncle is in 
deep trouble about him, that he feels that he 
has done all he can do for him, and is now 
almost tempted to cast him adrift.” 

“Oh, Arthur! Has any other boy of my 
class heard this ?” 

“Yes, Miss Olive, we heard it yesterday,” 
several voices answered in one breath. 


158 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“Arthur, did you learn how long this terrible 
thing has been going on? Did you hear any 
particulars ?” 

“ I did not hear exactly the time, Miss Olive, 
but I think it has been about two months. The 
news came very straight to me, for his uncle 
told my father all about it when he was in 

M the other day. He said he could not 

account for the change in George ; that when he 
began clerking for him he was so promising 
in every respect, so honest, industrious, trust- 
worthy, high-toned, really a Christian in consis- 
tency of conduct, that his uncle was delighted. 
He said that about two months ago George re- 
ceived a letter, that he saw him open it, glance 
over its contents, that his face grew pale, and in a 
moment he saw him crush the letter violently in 
his hand and dash it behind a barrel in a far 
corner. Mr. Stovall afterward looked for it but 
could not find it. From the reception of that 
letter, he says, George became a changed boy, 
was perfectly reckless, did not seem to care 
what became of him, lost interest in church and 
Sunday-school, went about moody and absent- 
minded ; that, while he was still industrious and 
attentive to business, he had undergone a great 
transformation. That letter is a mystery that 
has never been unravelled. After this, Mr. Sto- 
vall said, he found a flask of whiskey hidden in 


SAD TIDINGS RECEIVED. 1 59 

the bottom of an old barrel, which George con- 
fessed to be his, and he had a long, free conver- 
sation with him, telling him for the first time 
that his father filled a drunkard’s grave, and 
warning him by his untimely death to let the 
accursed thing alone. He believed that his con- 
versation was all-sufficient, and for a time George 
became his old self again, but it was only for a 
few days. One night last week 'he absented 
himself from home, and when Mr. Stovall 
walked into his store next morning, there 
lay George upon some bags of fiour dead 
drunk!” 

Olive was weeping bitterly, hysterically, and 
tears stood in the eyes of every member of her 
class. They all mourned for their classmate, 
but they did not comprehend the depth of 
Olive’s grief. Not a word of the morning lesson 
had been recited, indeed it had been entirely 
forgotten; yet this hour was the one which 
burned deepest into the memories of that class 
and lingered the longest. Olive suffered the 
most intense mental agony. Slipping out w’hile 
the school was singing the closing song, she 
hurried home. The house was empty, for her 
parents were already in the church above when 
she left the Sunday-school room. She was glad 
to be by herself so that she could weep and pray 
alone. Pacing to and fro in her room she 


l6o A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

agonized in prayer, and the burden of her peti- 
tion was, 

Oh, God, let this fall upon me alone ! Spare, 
in mercy, that orphan boy !” 

She saw herself now, a Christian whose life 
and precepts had not accorded. She recalled 
the warnings she had given to her boys, how 
she had pictured to them grand, pure, untainted 
Christians, a power in the church, a power in the 
world, who, walking through it, purified it, and, 
while its dreadful miasma swept around them, 
it left them uncontaminated. How she had 
longed for her six boys to become six God- 
fearing, God-serving men ! She had prayed, yes, 
she had prayed a great deal, but alas ! she had 
not watched. “ What I say unto you I say unto 
all, watch !” “ Watch ye and pray lest ye enter 

into temptation !” Alas for one unguarded mo- 
ment, one thoughtless act! Alas for that ten 
minutes of her life ! What the consequences 
would be she dared not think ; indeed she 
pressed her hands over her weeping eyes so 
that she might not peer into the dark future. 
Not once did she console herself with the 
thought that heretofore her life had been above 
reproach, her example shining out as the noon- 
day sun, her work for her Saviour constant, her 
life consecrated to his glory. Not once did she 
remember her pastor’s commendation, how the 


SAD TIDINGS RECEIVED. 


l6 


young people came to her to talk of their souls 
and ask counsel of her wiser head, nor that upon 
the most important committees the name of 
“Olive Greyson” often occurred; and, sweeter 
than all, that two of her boys had given their 
hearts to Jesus through her instrumentality, 
while others were seeking him, mourning sin- 
cerely for their sins. No, not once did she 
think of any of these things ; indeed, all the 
good she had ever done was eclipsed in the 
shadow of this great sin. 

When Dr. and Mrs. Greyson returned from 
church they found Olive with a burning fever. 
To every inquiry she replied, 

“ I am not sick, but I must go to M to 

save George. I must start to-night. I cannot 
wait. I must go at once to save that boy.” 

Her parents believed her wild with delirium, 
and were greatly shocked. Scarcely could they 
get her to speak of herself at all ; it was George’s 
name that was constantly upon her lips. 

“ It does n’t matter about me,” she exclaimed. 
“ I must go and save him if I die in the at- 
tempt.” 

So excited and hysterical was she that her 
father found it necessary to give her a sedative 
to quiet her nerves. As she was soon sleeping 
heavily. Dr. Greyson insisted that his wife lie 
down and leave Olive to his care until morning. 
1 1 


A Sceniins Trifle. 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


162 

As her sleep continued unbroken, he slipped out 
at daylight to snatch an hour’s rest, and when 
Mrs. Greyson entered Olive’s room a short time 
after, she was amazed to find her not only up, 
but with her travelling dress and hat on ready 
to take the morning train. 

^‘Oh, Olive, my child,” she said earnestly, 
“you will kill yourself. What do you mean? 
Where are you going ?’' 

“ To M , mother, to save George. You 

must not stop me, for I must go at once. I was 
not going without your knowledge, but I 
thought I would not wake you until the last 
moment. See, I have only a half-hour now to 
reach the train.” 

“ But, my child — ” 

“ Oh, mother, don’t look and speak that way. 
I am obliged to go, and this necessity is more 
imperative than even my mother’s wishes.” 

“Olive, you are ill. Child, I tell you you 
cannot go. Your fever ran high last night and 
you were wild. It would be madness for you to 
leave your room, and you cannot go. Take off 
your hat, my darling, and be content to be 
nursed a few days, and then when you are 
better — ” 

“Oh don’t, don’t!” cried Olive, almost wild 
again. “ I must go ! See ! only twenty minutes 
are left me. Where is my satchel?” 


SAD TIDINGS RECEIVED. 163 

Dr. Greyson had heard the excited tones and 
hurried into the room. Without expressing sur- 
prise or opposition, he drew Olive to the lounge 
and with his arm around her he said ten- 
derly, 

“ Tell me all about it, dear, what the trouble 
is, where you wish to go, and why.” 

Then hurriedly Olive told everything, and 
her parents understood all and deeply sympa- 
thized with her in her anguish of mind. 

“You can take the afternoon train, dear,” 
her father said soothingly; “ and you will be able 

to reach M by supper. Your friend, Agnes 

Maitland, who lives there, has been urging you 
to visit her a long time. Suppose I telegraph 
her so she can meet you ; or perhaps I had bet- 
ter go with you. What do .you think ?” 

“ I do not think it necessary for you to go 
with me, father. A telegram to Agnes is all 
that is necessary.” 

“But, my child, your father was going to 

M in a few days upon business anyhow, 

and he can attend to it now as well as later. I 
really think it best for him to accompany you, 
for your fever might return to-night.” 

“No fear of that, dear mother, since you con- 
sent for me to go to George.” 

“ Olive, my dear child, do be careful of your- 
self ; you may bring on a spell of illness through 


164 A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

over-anxiety and overwork. When will you re- 
turn, dear?” 

“Not until George is safe ; I cannot come 
before, mother. If I find his condition as bad as 
represented, I am going to beg his uncle to let 
me bring him home with me. Are you ready 
to welcome a drinking boy, brought to this con- 
dition through your child’s influence ?” 

So tremulously were the words spoken that 
they came near being drowned in tears, and the 
answer came just as tremulously and as full of 
tears : 

“Oh yes, my darling, we will help you all 
we can, and will pray earnestly for that dear 
boy.” 


HASTENING TO THE RESCUE. 


65 


CHAPTER XVII. 

HASTENING TO THE RESCUE. 

“ But, Olive, I have made an engagement 
for you to go to this concert, and you surely will 
^ not refuse. I do not know when such a pianist 
has visited our city before, and I was so de- 
lighted that you were coming at this time, know- 
ing how you love good music.” 

“ No one loves good music more than I ; but, 
dear Agnes, while I am here to make you a 
visit, there is before me a mission work in your 
city, and I cannot think of my pleasure till this 
is accomplished.” 

“Oh pshaw, Olive, you are no missionary 
that you have to go out in the highways and in 
the slums of cities to reclaim the fallen. This 
surely is no work for a pretty, fascinating girl 
like you. Let the preachers do this work ; there 
are refined pleasures for you, intellectual gratifi- 
cations more than most girls can enjoy. I did 
not invite you to go to the theatre, although 
there is a rare troupe here right now ; neither to 
the ball to-night, to which we are both invited, 
for both of these amusements, I know, are con- 
trary to your religion ; but you cannot possibly 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


1 66 

object to this concert, and I positively insist 
upon your going, and with the gentleman who 
solicits the pleasure of your company.” 

“ Did you say he was to call this morning?” 

“Yes; he is too conventional not to call first 
and be introduced.” 

“ You are very kind, Agnes, to think of my 
pleasure and provide for it before my arrival, 
and I accept your arrangement with pleasure, ^ 
but you must excuse me immediately after 
breakfast, though I will return as early as I 
can.” 

“ Look here, Olive Greyson, I never heard of 
a girl accepting pleasure and the escort of a 
handsome, rich young man with a sigh before. 
Now let me tell you, young lady, you are mine 
so long as you are in this city, and I shall control 
your going out and your coming in, shall pre- 
scribe for your health, and provide for your 
recreations, which shall be legion. Your mission 
work (and who cares a fig for mission work !) has 
got to be entirely subservient to pleasure ; but if 
it is absolutely imperative for you to look after 
that Sunday-school scholar, as you say, I ’ll give 
you two hours immediately after breakfast, when 
I practise and take my music lesson, but the rest 
of your valuable time is mine. 1 11 let you go 
now, but you must make haste back lest Mr. 
Lynnwood should call in your absence.” 


HASTENING TO THE RESCUE. 167 

Immediately after breakfast Olive hurried 
over to Mr. Stovall’s store, which her father had 
pointed out the evening before, as they .drove 
from the depot to Mr. Maitland’s, and he prom- 
ised to meet her there about ten o’clock if his 
business engagements would permit. In spite of 
her brave heart, Olive found herself growing 
more and more nervous as she approached Mr. 
Stovall’s store, and she walked slower and slow- 
er, hoping her father might overtake her before 
she reached the doorsteps. Olive had prayed for 
pardon and believed it had been granted her ; 
she had begged too for wisdom, prudence, gen- 
tleness, even the very words to meet George 
with ; and yet never in all her life had she 
felt so weak and trembling before. 

A portly, ruddy-faced man was standing near 
the doorway as she approached, and looked sur- 
prised to see a lady entering a wholesale grocery, 
but with great politeness he made out to say. 

Good morning, miss. Is there any way I can 
serve you this morning?” 

“ Thank you, sir ; is this Mr. Stovall ?” 

“ Yes, miss.” 

Mr. Stovall, I am Olive Grey son, of the town 
of L .” 

Miss Greyson, Miss Olive Grey son,” re- 
peated Mr. Stovall, his eyes cast upon the floor 
in thought. “Your name is very familiar. Miss 


A SEEMING TRIFLE, 


1 68 

Greyson, but for my life I cannot remember 
where I have met you.” 

“ We have never met, sir, but you may have 
heard your nephew, George, speak of me, as I 
was his Sunday-school teacher.” 

“ Oh yes, now I remember. Miss Greyson, I 
am pleased to meet you. Yes, I have heard 
George speak your praises often. Poor fellow !” 

All this while Olive’s eyes ran down the 
length of the counters, scanning the faces of the 
clerks for one familiar. As she entered, far back, 
bending over a barrel he was marking, was a 
boy, who looked up as he heard a lady’s voice. 
Plis eyes dilated a moment in wonder, then, 
dashing down the brush he held in his. fingers, 
he slipped softly out of the back-door. 

“ I will not see her. She need not be coming 
here !” he exclaimed as he hid behind a pile of 
boxes in the back-yard. 

Olive had a long conversation with Mr. Sto- 
vall. She told him what she had heard of George, 
and this he corroborated ; then she explained the 
fated letter which was such a mystery and which 
had caused so much trouble, made her own sor- 
rowful confession with tearful eyes, and then 
told the object of her visit to M . Mr. Sto- 

vall listened intently, then talked with deep feel- 
ing of his nephew, said he was then pondering 
what his duty was in his case, felt that he stood 


HASTENING TO THE RESCUE. 169 

as a father to the boy and was determined to do 
a parent’s part. Looking down the store, he 
called out, 

“ Where is George ?” 

A clerk replied, “ He was here a while ago, 
sir, marking some barrels for the train, but he 
seems to have left the store for some purpose.” 

“ Miss Greyson,” and Mr. Stovall leaned over 
the counter and spoke in a low tone, “ if the 
truth were known, I suspect George either recog- 
nized your face or your voice, and that is the 
reason he is not to be found. He hates to meet 
you, and I do not wonder.” 

“ It is a mutual dread, Mr. Stovall, for if he is 
guilty, so am I. I must meet him though ; I am 
determined not to go home until I do.” 

“ I shall be glad to aid you. Miss Greyson, but 
we must act wisely and prudently in this matter. 
I think, perhaps, it is best for me not to allude to 
your being in the city. When will you call 
again ?” 

“ My friend. Miss Agnes Maitland, claims my 
time for the rest of to-day, so I shall not be able 
to come again until about this hour to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ That will do. I shall expect you then. Are 
you visiting Mr. Maitland’s?” 

“Yes, sir, our families have long been 
friends.” 


I/O A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

‘‘ You say you are from L . Are you any 

relation of Dr. Lucius M. Greyson ?” 

He is my father, sir.” 

“ Then I can claim your father as an old col- 
lege mate. I am certainly glad to know his 
daughter. Suppose, Miss Greyson, you finish 
your visit to Mr. Maitland’s family, and then 
;Come over and visit my family ; this will throw 
you certainly with George.” 

“ Thank you, sir, for your kind invitation, and 
I accept it with much pleasure. I shall have a 
twofold motive now in making this visit : first, to 
become better acquainted with my father’s 
friend, and, secondly, to bring about my heart’s 
desire. Oh I am sick, sick over George ! Please, 
my dear friend, give me your counsel and your 
prayers that I may be able to undo the terrible 
effects of my thoughtlessness.” 

Mr. vStovall seemed unable to find words for 
an answer, and they parted in silence. It was 
eleven o’clock when Olive returned, and she 
found that Mr. Lynnwood had called, been dis- 
appointed that she was out, waited a short time, 
and finally was compelled to take his leave. 
Olive cared nothing for the call nor for the plea- 
sure awaiting her at the concert. Her sole 
thought was George, how she could save George ; 
and while her friend Agnes was talking away of 
life and its joys, society and its delights, Olive 


HASTENING TO THE RESCUE. 171 

sat thinking and trying to devise wise plans, and 
in her heart was a prayer to God for strength 
and wisdom. 

The concert was over and Olive was glad. 
At any other time it would have been delightful, 
but her mind and heart were too full to enjoy 
anything, no matter how elevating. 

The morning call was made. Mr. Stovall was 
waiting and watching for her, but so was some 
one else, for scarcely had she entered the 
front-door when Mr. Stovall’s quick eye saw 
a form dart out of the back-door as though in 
haste. 

“ He has just slipped out, Miss Olive,” he 
whispered. “ I saw him just as you entered pass 
through the back-door in a hurry.” 

“ I am so sorry,” Olive said. “ I am afraid he 
thinks we are plotting against him, since he 
has seen us talking together, and my re-appear- 
ance to-day will confirm him in this opinion. I 
think perhaps I had better not come any more, 
Mr. Stovall. I am sadly disappointed, yet what 
right have I to feel impatient? Oh I will wait, 
wait patiently, and pray God to make an oppor- 
tunity for me.” 

“ And I will join you heartily in that petition. 
How many more days will you remain at Mr. 
Maitland’s ?” 

“ Agnes will not listen to a shorter visit than 


172 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


a week, so I have yet four more days to remain 
there.” 

“ We may expect you next Monday then ?” 

“ Yes, sir, I will leave Mr. Maitland’s for your 
house next Monday. My hope is based upon my 
visit to your family, Mr. Stovall. It is better, I 
am persuaded, for me not to come here to see 
you again, since it may seem to George to be 
persecution, and my anxiety may thwart the 
object of my visit to M . As I said a mo- 

ment since, I shall pray earnestly for an oppor- 
tunity, and believe that God will make it for me. 
Good-by, Mr. Stovall, until we meet in your own 
house.” 

“ Good-by, Miss Olive ; we .shall await you im- 
patiently, I avssure you.” 


PROVIDENTIAL AID. 


173 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

PROVIDENTIAL AID. 

Early upon the fifth day a man appeared at 
Mr. Maitland’s door with a note for Miss Olive 
Greyson. Olive hastily opened it and read ; 

“ Dear Miss Greyson : Our prayer is an- 
swered, the opportunity has come. Last evening 
just before dusk, as George was going with my 
drayman to superintend a shipment of goods at 
the depot, my horses became frightened, the dri- 
ver lost all control of them, and George, who was 
standing, was thrown violently upon the ground, 
and a barrel rolling on his leg crushed it terri- 
bly! We were up with him the entire night, 
fearful of internal injuries ; but the physicians 
in attendance hope that our fears are groundless, 
and, except for the fracture, think he is doing as 
well as we could expect. Qh when I lifted him 
in my arms and smelled his breath, tainted with 
whiskey, I could not but bless God for his mercy 
in sending this severe dispensation to save him. 
Please pray for us. I will keep you informed as 
to his condition. 

“ Truly your friend, 

“GEORGE E. STOVALL.” 


174 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Olive’s face was wreathed in smiles as she 
read the note, so that Agnes asked, 

“ Good news, Olive ?” 

^‘Well, yes. Oh no, not exactly,” was re- 
plied. 

You smiled more brightly than I have seen 
you smile for a week, so it must be good.” 

Olive excused herself and hurried to her 
room to reply to Mr. Stovall’s note, bitterly re- 
proaching herself for rejoicing over George’s 
suffering ; and yet she was happier than she had 
been for days and days. She knew that George 
could get no whiskey now, that he would be 
compelled to do without. Then too she felt that 
her opportunity had come when he would be 
compelled to lie with splintered limb for weeks, 
and so many sweet talks she intended to have 
with him ; yet, no, she would not take advantage 
of his confinement ; she would wait patiently and 
pray ; the time she felt sure would come. 

Two days more and she was under the same 
roof with George. How happy she felt ! To her 
anxious inquiry was replied, 

“ He suffers greatly and - fever has set in. 
Poor boy ! How my heart aches for him !” 

“ Oh mine bleeds for him, Mr. Stovall,” she 
said, “ and yet I cannot help feeling happy and 
thankful, for I believe God’s finger is in this dis- 
pensation.” 


PROVIDENTIAL AID. 


75 


“ Oh yes, MisvS Olive, so do I ; but it so piti- 
ful to witness his sufferings. When do you pro- 
pose to see him?” 

“ Not at all, sir, unless he asks for me, unless 
he expresses the desire himself.” 

I believe you are right.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Stovall, I have thought it all over, 
and I have decided that I shall not force myself 
upon him. I suppose he has neve'r mentioned 
my name.” 

“ No, Miss Olive, and yet I am constrained to 
believe he knows that you are in the city. If he 
is free from fever to-morrow and is suffering less, 
I think I shall mention that you have been visit- 
ing Mr. Maitland’s family, that you called at the 
store to see him and let him know you were in 
the city, that you and I struck up a friendship 
since we discovered that your father and I were 
college mates, that I insisted upon a visit from 
you, that you are now in the house full of loving, 
tender sympathy, but that you have declined to 
see him, since you feel it prudent not to do so.” 

Very well, sir, if you think best, please tell 
him these facts ; afterwards my duty will be 
plain. Oh I should be so happy to be his nurse ! 
You could trust me with him. I should not per- 
mit him to talk much, for there is time enough 
for this in the long convalescence before him.” 

A week after the accident Mr. Stovall spoke 


176 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


to George of Olive, told of her being there and 
why, that while she made the most anxious in- 
quiries after him all through the day, she had 
not visited him because she feared it would not 
be prudent, and then he added, 

“ She told me to give you her tenderest love 
and tell you 'how deeply she sympathizes with 
you, and that if at any time you felt able to see 
her, she would be glad to come in to read to 
you or do anything else for your comfort.” 

George’s face showed interest, but he merely 
said as he turned away, 

“ I am much obliged, uncle, but I suffer too 
much to listen to reading.” 

The reply, a delicate declining to see her, 
hurt Olive, but she did not despair. Several 
more days passed, and as his aunt sat by him 
George said, 

“ Auntie, is Miss Olive still here ?” 

“Yes, dear.” 

“ Do you think I could see her?” 

“Certainly; I will bring her up. She has 
felt so anxious about you I know she will be 
glad to come.” 

So happy was Olive to lay aside her book and 
hurry up the stairs, calming herself, choking 
back her feeling outside the door so that she 
could meet the suffering boy without agitation. 
Every pulse in her body was throbbing visibly ; 


PROVIDENTIAL AID. 


1/7 


but, controlling her surging emotions, she walked 
in lightly, sank in a rocker by his side, and taking 
George’s hand in hers said tremulously, 

“My poor boy, I am so sorry to see you 
here !” 

“ I am so glad to see you, Miss Olive. I have 
been wanting to see you so long.’’ 

“ Have you, George ? Why did n’t you send 
for me then? I have been only waiting to 
come.” 

“ Because — because — ” 

There was silence a moment, and then in 
almost a whisper George said, 

“ Miss Olive, do you know everything?” 

“Yes, dear, I know everything; but are you 
strong enough to talk about it now? Wont it 
excite you too much to review the past ? Had n’t 
we better wait ?” 

“No, Miss Olive, let it all come out now ; I ’ll 
feel so much better, and believe I will sleep all 
night long if this burden is lifted from my 
mind.” 

“ Has it been a ‘ burden,’ dear?” 

“Oh such a heavy, heavy burden, such a 
miserably heavy burden !” 

“ Do n’t you think / had better do some talk- 
ing first, George, even before yourself?” 

“Let me confess first, Miss Olive. I want 
you to see all the wicked things that have been 


A Seeniiiig Trifle. 


12 


78 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


in my heart lately ; and first, I want to say I 
have n’t loved you much for a long time. Please 
do n’t feel hurt with me for saying so, for it is 
true, and I have been so grievously disappointed 
in you ; and oh, dear Miss Olive, I lost confi- 
dence in you, in everybody, in God, religion, and 
everything good !” 

Tears rained down Olive’s cheeks as she 
sobbed out, 

“ I do not wonder, indeed I do not wonder. 
Oh, George, you had every reason to be disap- 
pointed in me, every reason to lose confidence in 
me, every reason to quit loving me. If God in 
his infinite mercy had not forgiven me I should 
never have come to you ; but he has, dear 
George, he has pardoned me ; can’t you forgive 
me too?” 

“ Yes, Miss Olive, I can now, but I could not 
until I got hurt. But as I lay here and thought 
I felt that I had done you injustice. Please ex- 
cuse me for confessing how I felt towards you. 
It seemed to me it would not be honest to lie 
here and let you talk and be so kind and yet not 
know. Oh, Miss Olive, you don’t know, you 
can never know, how I have loved and looked up 
to you as the loveliest, purest, best Christian on 
earth. I talked of you to the boys here ; I told 
them Sodom would never have been destroyed 
if you had been there, that no Sunday-school 


PROVIDENTIAL AID. 


/9 


teacher ever equalled you, that were I only as 
good as you I should be perfectly satisfied. 
They called you my ‘ pinnacle of perfection,’ 
and you were. When my best friend told me 
that his father had been at the Springs and saw 
you — you know what. Miss Olive— I called him 
a liar, and we would have come to blows had not 
a policeman stopped us. I refused champagne 
because you had talked to us and made us prom- 
ise not to touch liquor in any form ; and cards, 
you said they were wretched gamblers’ tools and 
we must let them alone, and we promised never 
to touch them. I was firm ; I could not be 
tempted. If all my friends had drank and 
played I never would, for I had promised my 
dear teacher ; but afterwards — afterwards — am I 
paining you. Miss Olive?” 

Olive was perfectly convulsed with feeling. 
None of this was new to her; she had known it 
all before. But no, she had not realized the 
hold she had upon this orphan boy, and now the 
past, with its weakness, its yielding, its sin, the 
possibilities for good in her influence over 
George, loomed up, and she could not control 
her deep emotion. At length she said, 

“ ‘ Pained,’ George ? Oh indeed I am wound- 
ed almost unto death ; but it is right, my punish- 
ment is just ; I deserve it all. I do not murmur ; 
let it come.” 


8o 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“Miss Olive, please forgive me ; I have said 
too much. I would not add one iota to your 
grief for all the world. I felt th^t I must tell 
you all ; I could not bear to hide a single thing ; 
and yet what was your slight failure to mine !” 

“ Oh, George, do n’t call my failure ' slight */ 
it was enormous. Nothing can justify my 
course.” 

A few moments of thought and then George 
asked, 

“ Miss Olive, how did you hear about me ?” 

“ I heard it at Sunday-school, George, through 
one of the boys.” 

“ Please tell me how much you heard.” 

“ He asked me if I knew George Stovall was 
drinking, and when I expressed my utter amaze- 
ment he said it was true, that you had under- 
gone a great change, that you had received a let- 
ter which had had a strange effect upon you, that 
your uncle had seen you reading it, that you sud- 
denly crumpled it in your hand and dashed it 
violently from you, and from that time you be- 
came a different boy.” 

There was a pause, and then she asked, 

“ Was that my letter, George?” 

“ Yes, Miss Olive,” was softly answered. 

“Was it that letter which changed your 
whole life?” 

“ I must answer truthfully ; yes. Miss Olive, 



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PROVIDENTIAL AID. 1.8 1 

it was. I became perfectly reckless from that 
time.” 

“ Did you read the entire letter, George ?” 

“ No, ma’am, I was so overwrought I glanced 
down till I came to the words, ‘ I played cards, I 
drank wine,’ and then in a burst of the most in- 
tense feeling I crushed the thing in my hand 
and dashed it as far as I could send it across the 
room. Why should I read it ? I had learned all 
I wanted to know ; what more did I care for ? 
Since I have been lying here. Miss Olive, I have 
wished for that letter that I might read it, for in 
my heart I feel that I may have done you gross 
injustice. Will you tell me, please, all that let- 
ter contained ?” 

“ It was merely an explanation of my act. I 
did not try to justify myself, but I simply told 
you how far I went and why. I told you that 
during my stay at the Springs I had tried to 
keep unspotted, tried to keep close to my Saviour 
amid the gayest surroundings, had wounded the 
feelings of a Christian young man, who saw no 
sin in dancing, by declaring that not even the 
door of a ballroom was any place for a Christian, 
and had turned off and refused to witness the 
dance. I had joined in innocent games and rec- 
reations, in picnics and rambles for wild flow- 
ers, and I endeavored to show all those gay 
young people that young Christians need be 


82 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


neither fettered nor strait-laced, that of all peo- 
ple in the world they should be the brightest, 
the happiest. My intimate friend was Lottie 
Bell, a noble, lovely girl and a Christian. She 
saw no harm in a game of cards and frequently 
played. I have often waited for her until the 
game was ended so we could take our usual 
promenade before retiring, but I had no thought 
of ever touching a card. The night before one 
of the ladies was to leave the Springs the Euchre 
Club gave her a farewell evening, and invited 
me to attend, although I did not belong to their 
party. I went into the parlor, intending to re- 
main but a few moments and then go to my 
room, read, and write letters. Just as I was 
about leaving one of the ladies was summoned 
to her room by the illness of one of her children, 
and an exciting game seemed likely to be bro- 
ken up for the want of one player. Lottie 
begged me to take the vacant chair, declaring I 
would be really disobliging if I allowed the game 
to be stopped, and then from every table urgent 
voices echoed the request, until I was in a dilem- 
ma. Everybody waited upon me. I did not 
want to appear disobliging neither did I want 
to be over-scrupulous, and as I had learned a lit- 
tle of the game by standing behind Lottie’s 
chair, and as voices began again to urge me to 
take the seat, I sat down and was in the midst of 


PROVIDENTIAL AID. 


83 


the game when refreshments were, brought in. 
I took a piece of cake but positively refused the 
wine, which when the young man I had previ- 
ously wounded saw, he whispered to the waiter, 
who soon appeared with a glass of lemonade, 
which he placed before me upon the card-table. 
From its color I knew that it was mixed with 
j claret, and it remained untouched, when upon 
looking up I caught the young man’s eye, and 
his glance at my glass plainly asked, ‘ Does not 
that suit you either?’ Again the fear of being 
thought over-scrupulous seized me, and in an 
impulsive moment I raised the red lemonade to 
my lips and drank ! Oh, George, to recall those 
ten minutes of my life ! I had prayed but I had 
not watched. Could I only live the past summer 
over again, I verily believe I would die before I 
would yield. This was what I wrote you, George, 
not in excuse for my sin, but somehow I wanted 
you to know all the circumstances by which I 
was surrounded ; yet you did not read my letter ; 
you knew only the fact that I played cards and 
drank wine.” 

Oh, Miss Olive, I am so sorry. Why did I 
not read every word ! Had I done it my own 
life might have been so different. It does seem 
to me if ever any one had an excuse for doing 
those things you certainly did.” 

“ No, George, there was no excuse. I com- 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


184 

mitted a grievous sin. It is so easy for persons 
spending the summer away from home in cities 
and gay places to fall into temptation, to feel 
that because they are among entire strangers 
they need not be careful of influence and exam- 
ple, that they can do things they would never 
consent to do at home. I was anxious to spend 
a summer at the Springs, but I tell you my suf- 
ferings since that summer have far counterbal- 
anced my pleasure while there. Oh would to 
God I had remained at home in the monotonous 
round of duty ! Then I might have been spared 
so much, and you, dear boy, might, have been 
spared so much too !” 

“ Miss Olive, I have been a terribly wicked 
boy.” 

“ And it was through your Sunday-school 
teacher’s life and influence. George, this is the 
dreadful part to me.” 

“ But, my dear Miss Olive, you have no idea 
how wicked I have been. Please listen to me 
and let me tell you everything, and then I shall 
feel my mind relieved. First I began with 
champagne, then wine came next, and since that 
was so expensive whiskey was substituted. I 
learned to love it ; the effect was delightful ; I 
learned to love the very taste. For weeks I was 
under its influence ; but I did more than drink, 
I gambled. I won and lost money, and if by 


PROVIDENTIAL AID. 1 85 

any reason I could not get to my flask, I smoked 
cigarette after cigarette, hoping to get through 
them some stimulus. Since I have been lying 
here it seemed to me I would die if I did not get 
some stimulant ; but I could not get it and I 
would not ask uncle for it, and though I hinted 
often at my weakness, the physicians would not 
prescribe it. When under the influence of an 
opiate I could get along without it, but at other 
times it seemed to me my whole system cried 
aloud for whiskey ; indeed, it has only been 
within the last few days that I have felt at all 
like my old self. Now it is a pleasure to lie 
here out of the reach of whiskey, cigarettes, and 
cards, for my conscience does not stab me as it 
was all the time doing before. But oh, my dear 
Miss Olive, I am actually afraid to get well ! I 
am afraid of' the fetters of drink, am afraid I will 
go straight back again into those sinful paths. 
I did not dream there was any hereditary love 
for it in my constitution, but there is; it de- 
scended from my father to his son. This is a 
horrible thought to me, that the love of liquor 
can descend from one generation to another 
through a long ancestry. Who in all this broad 
earth can hold up his hand and say, ' I am free 
from all taint ’ ? No one ; not I, not you, not 
any one. Oh, Miss Olive, what shall I do? I 
cannot lie here for ever, yet I am afraid to get 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


1 86 

well. Oh I fear I am gone, that my whole life 
is already a wreck !” 

“ My dear boy, this is inexpressibly sad. 
Your only safety is in total abstinence. You 
cannot tamper with anything that borders on 
spirits, or you will indeed become a wreck. 
Smoking, the use of tobacco in any form, physi- 
cians tell us, will eventually lead to the craving 
for something stronger. Let everything of this 
kind alone, now and for ever.” 

“ Oh but I am so weak. Miss Olive, and it has 
such a hold upon me, I am afraid to trust my- 
self.” 

“Yes, George, you are weak, but Jesus is 
strong. He will be your strength if you will 
only put yourself in his arms. While you lie 
here, thank him for his infinite mercy in not 
allowing you to be killed in that terrible acci- 
dent, and you a drinking boy! We must not 
talk any more to-day, for fear it may injure you 
and bring on fever. I am going down stairs 
now to let you rest, and while you lie here alone 
I want you to find an answer to this solemn 
question : ‘ What would have become of me had 
I been cut off in my sins ?’ ” 


THE WAY OF RETURN. 


8 ; 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE WAY OF RETURN. 

Olive was happier than she had been in 
many a day : not because she felt that George 
was safe from temptation, not that he had given 
himself into the Saviour’s keeping, but because 
he saw and felt his sins, because he knew his 
weakness and feared to trust himself. She had 
thanked God many times for George’s accident, 
his suffering, for it had made him stop in his 
mad career and think, and it had brought them 
together again. She had told her mother when 
she left home that she should not return until 
George was safe, and though weeks had passed 
since her arrival, yet still she stayed. In a con- 
versation with Mr. Stovall she had expressed the 
desire to carry George home with her, and he 
had cheerfully consented for him to go as soon 
as he could be moved with safety, and he be- 
lieved that he and the physician could carry 

George over to L without danger in a few 

more days. Olive ran up to his room and said 
brightly, 

“ George, I want to carry you home with me. 
May I ?” 


i88 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


George seemed unusually despondent this 
morning and replied seriously, 

“ Miss Olive, that question solves the mystery 

of your visit to M ; it is solely on my account 

you came, on my account you are visiting my 
uncle’s family, on my account you have lingered 
here so long.” 

'‘Never mind about all this, George. Don’t 
trouble your brain with mysteries and hard rid- 
dles, but answer my plain question, ‘ Will you go 
home with me ?’ ” 

“ Would you be willing to have such a terri- 
ble trouble on your hands. Miss Olive ?” 

“ Yes, indeed. Then I am answered ; you are 
willing to go?” 

“ I shall be delighted to go. Miss Olive, but I 
am sorry I shall be such a burden to you. Oh I 
am such a trouble to everybody !” 

“ Now, George, you and I are not going to 
have any such words as ‘ burden ’ and ‘ trouble ’ 
in our vocabulary. You see this is the way I 
look at matters : it will be some 1:ime before you 
are fit for work, and the hours of a tedious con- 
valescence will drag heavily ; and perhaps going 
back to your old home, seeing familiar faces' and 
mingling with former companions, these things 
will brighten you up, and I believe in the end 
you will get well more quickly there.” 

“ The visit will be a great pleasure to me. 


THE WAY OF RETURN. 1 89 

Miss Olive, and all you say is true, but beyond 
and beneath these reasons I can read a deeper 
one : I will be near you and you can watch me. I 
will gladly go, and for this last and best reason. 
Oh, my dear friend, rather than to fall into such 
sins again, I really believe I would rather lie on 
this bed of suffering for ever ! I am so weak, my 
resolution is nothing, and, as I told you, even 
since I have been lying here my thirst for liquor 
has been almost unbounded. I cannot get it, 
nobody will bring it to me, but how will it be 
when I am walking about again and it is within 
my reach?” 

“ Let us trust God for the future, George. As 
long as you feel your weakness and know the 
force of the temptation, as long as you fear your 
own self, nay, as long as you put your trust in 
God, you are safe, never fear.” 

“ But, Miss Olive, what right have I to trust 
in God or to look to him for strength ?” 

“ None whatever, George. No sinner has any 
right in himself. We have forfeited all, and de- 
serve nothing but death, eternal death.” 

“ How can I hope for any help from him, 
then ?” 

“ For Christ’s sake — only for Christ’s sake.” 

“ Oh I hope and pray he will not leave me to 
myself again. Oh ‘ for Christ’s sake ’ I trust he 
will be my strength !” 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


190 

“ Amen ! I respond from the depths of my 
heart, George.” 

“ It is so dreadful to inherit a love for drink, 
Miss Olive.” 

“ It is, indeed.” 

“ Will I have to fight it all my life, do you 
suppose ?” 

“If it is not a lifelong fight, it will certainly 
be a lifelong watching, George.” 

“ Oh dear ! I do not feel equal to it. Some- 
times, Miss Olive, I am tempted to give up, to 
stop fighting and let self have the mastery, to 
yield to appetite, to drink all I want, drink on 
and drink on, get out of the world and people’s 
way just as fast as possible. ’Twill only be 
talked of a moment; I will soon be forgotten. 
’T will be only a boy gone, only another hillock 
by my mother’s side, only one more soul lost 
to hope and heaven !” 

“ George ! George !” cried Olive. “ That is 
the devil’s work ; he tells you this, and oh you 
are listening to him. I shudder at your words ; 
you horrify me when you talk so. The devil 
knows that your heart is his best friend, that its 
arguments are all for him, and you are ready to 
open your arms and embrace him with all his 
terrible temptations. ‘ Only a boy,’ you said, but 
it is ‘a boy’ that has the noblest qualities of 
mind and heart, whose influence is already great, 


THE WAY OF RETURN. I9I 

wliose strong character can make him a power in 
any circle. Yes, it is ‘only a boy,’ but that boy 
is fast becoming a man, and he can, if he will,' 
become one of the strong pillars of his commu- 
nity, of the church of God, a light to point others 
to Christ, a sturdy, healthy Christian. Oh, 
George, it seems to me I can sit here and look 
down the long vista of the future and see the 
possibilities for you, a grand Christian man, firm 
as the rock of Gibraltar because planted in Christ, 
an earnest, working, self-sacrificing, purifying, 
restraining, encouraging Christian, honoring and 
glorifying your Master. ‘Only one more soul 
lost,’ you say. Oh God forbid ! God grant 
me years and years of life to live that I can pray 
for you. God grant me strength that I may 
spend myself repeating your name at the throne 
of ‘grace, because through me, a weak, erring 
Christian, you have been nearly ruined. No, my 
boy, you will not be lost ; you will be saved. I 
have faith to believe that you will become a 
Christian, and that speedily. Do not array your- 
self against Christ, George, do not push good 
thoughts and resolutions from you and encour- 
age the devil in his efforts at damnation. You 
have not stopped praying, have you?” 

“ I have not prayed in a long, long time. Miss 
Olive.” 

“ Shall I pray with you, George ?” 


192 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“ If you wish, Miss Olive.” 

With this half consent Olive fell upon her 
knees at the bedside, and such a tremulous, tear- 
ful, heart-broken prayer went up to heaven, so 
full of love for her wandering boy, so full of 
confession for herself, so full of faith in her Sa- 
viour and trust in his boundless mercy, full, yea, 
overflowing, with tears, that, as she prayed, 
and heard the sobs from George’s lips and felt 
the bed shake with his strong emotion, her plead- 
ings were changed to thanksgiving, and she arose 
happy in the assurance that George was safe. 

Olive was ready now to go home and leave 
him in her Saviour’s hands. How sweet and full 
the assurance was ! In what loving, omnipotent 
arms she had placed the poor wandering boy ! 
Her heart was full of happiness when she went 
to say ' Good-by,’ for it would only be a short 
time before she would welcome him home. 

The days seemed long and dreary to George 
now, for Olive had brought bright sunshine with 
her, and between conversation and reading she 
had relieved the hours of their monotony and 
dulness. Now that he was necessarily so much 
alone, he had ample time to think and pray. He 
had been touched by Olive’s prayer as he had 
never been touched before. The Holy Spirit was 
at work. For days after Olive left he was sunk in 
the depths of the darkest despair, and in truth it 


THE WAY OF RETURN. 


193 


was a long night of anguish ; but at last the 
morning dawned, bright and beautiful without a 
single cloud, and then Olive received these lines 
written from George’s chair : 

“ Dear Miss Olive : — I have a Saviour too ! 
I wish you were here so I could tell you how 
precious my Saviour is, how I love him, how I 
trust him, and what sweet peace he has spoken 
to my sorrowing heart. I was utterly miserable 
after you left, I missed you so much. I felt that 
you were gone and that I had no one to tell me 
how to find the Saviour I was so anxiously seek- 
ing, but now I know that your going was for 
the best. Since I had no one to go to, it drove 
me straight to Jesus. I told him that you had 
gone and I did not know what to do or how to 
seek, and, while I was groping about in darkness 
with my arms outstretched for help, oh I do not 
know what I said or did ; I only know that light 
broke in upon my soul and that I was full of 
peace and joy indescribable. It was midnight ; 
I had heard the clock strike twelve ; and I lay 
there rejoicing in the dark, feeling that I did 
not want to sleep, I was too happy, and wishing 
I could proclaim to the world ‘ what a dear Sa- 
viour I had found.’ The thought occurred to 
me that it would be better for me to die right 
then than to live and have to struggle with my 


A Seeming Trifle, 


13 


194 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


weakness. Don’t you see tlie devil was with 
me even in that happy hour? but I cried aloud, 
‘ I can do all things through Christ which 
strengtheneth me.’ It was one of the verses 
you had taught us, Miss Olive, and as I bran- 
dished this weapon in the devil’s face he fled. 
Words cannot describe to you how perfectly 
happy I am. Dear Miss Olive, I can see your 
face as you read these lines, so full of tearful 
joy that I do not ask you to rejoice with me, for 
I know you already do. You will not have time 
to answer this, for a few hours after its recep- 
tion I will be with you. Till then, good-by, 
“Your happy pupil, 

“GEORGE.” 

No, there was no time for a letter, but there 
was plenty of time for a telegram, and over the 
wires flashed the words : 

“ Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is 
within me, bless his holy name. O. G.” 

They were strange words to be sent over the 
wires, and the operator read and re-read them 
with wonder, but they were traced in a man’s 
bold hand and sent up to George, and in a boy- 
ish way he preSvSed the scrap of paper to his lips 
and then put it in his box of treasures in his 
bureau drawer. 

One more day and George was walking up 


THE WAY OF RETURN. 


195 


the front path of Dr. Grey son’s residence upon 
two crutches, a strap supporting his weak knee. 
Olive’s face was radiant as she ran out, ex- 
claiming, 

“Oh, George, my brother, welcome, wel- 
come !’’ 

How delighted every one was to see him ! 
Olive had arranged his room with her own 
hands, and it was bright and fragrant with flow- 
ers. Dr. Greyson’s chair for invalids was brought 
down from the garret, and it did good service ; 
and George, his face a little white from long 
confinement, looked calmly happy. Olive had 
planned a surprise for him, and just before sup- 
per the other members of his Sunday-school 
class dropped in and were delighted to meet 
their old friend and classmate again. Then, 
after tea, George’s full heart overflowed, and he 
told the boys of his Saviour’s love, his goodness, 
how long-suffering he was, how easy to find, and 
that no peace, no happiness, could compare with 
the joy which followed forgiveness. The two 
boys in the class who had put on Christ testified 
to the truth of all George said, and the three 
unconverted ones looked solemn indeed. Olive 
sat by in silence and tears, and when they all 
parted at a late hour, she exclaimed, 

“ This is the happiest night I have ever 
known !” 


196 A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

Dr. Peyton, who had accompanied George to 

L , now went back to the city, turning his 

patient over to the care of Dr. Greyson. It was 
sad to see so active a boy limping around upon 
two crutches, but George did not murmur ; he 
was thankful that he had been permitted to live, 
thankful that the terrible fracture had healed 
healthily and that both limbs were saved, 
thankful that he could walk again upon the 
brown earth out under the blue sky, and breathe 
in the bracing wintry air. As Olive sat by him 
one day reading, she suddenly stopped, laid her 
book down, and said, 

“ George, I feel that I cannot warn you too 
much. I do not want you ever to forget my 
misstep, and I want you to remember that the 
command is, ‘ Watch ’ as well as ‘ Pray.’ Never 
conclude, not even if you are in Australia, that 
you have no influence as a Christian, that your 
example away from home will amount to noth- 
ing ; and never be afraid of being counted too 
strict, strait-laced, and over-scrupulous. Remem- 
ber that you are individually responsible to God 
for your actions, your influence, and your exam- 
ple, that your light must be kept trimmed and 
burning and not allowed to flicker, lest for the 
want of it some poor soul will stumble. I have 
heard ministers speak of the ungodly stumbling 
over cold Christians into hell ; yes, and they may 


THE WAY OF RETURN. 1 97 

stumble over the thoughtlessness of Christians 
whose lives are circumspect and whose hearts 
are not entirely cold. This is a terrible figure 
to me. Many sinners excuse themselves upon 
the plea that their lives are more consistent 
than those of many Christians — they would not 
be guilty of the heinous sins that some Christians 
are guilty of. How the evil work of Christians 
is to follow them I do not know ; but this I do 
know, that the ungodly cannot plead the cold- 
ness, negligence, and sins of Christians at the 
bar of God, for each must stand for himself, one 
and alone. Oh, George, never dishonor your 
Saviour by missteps ; your influence will be so 
weakened and you may do positive injury. 
Take warning by me. Last July I played cards 
and drank wine. It is now December, and for 
five months I have been laboring to undo the 
work I did then ; and, not only so, but I started 
to life a thirst in you that you did not dream 
existed, and you will have to struggle with it 
all your life.” 

“ But, Miss Olive, I shall have grace sufficient 
unto my day now, shall have strength given me 
to resist.” 

“Yes, George, this is promised us ; but, my 
dear boy, while your heart is changed and your 
nature renewed, it is not obliterated. I do not 
want to say one discouraging word, but I want 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


198 

you to keep on the alert and watch, for I fear 
that in moments of depression, of physical weak- 
ness, the devil will be at your elbow whispering 
that you need a stimulant. Do not let him sur- 
prise you ; be on the lookout for him at every 
turn and be ready to brandish Scripture at him, 
for he cannot stand that.” 

“ I hoped I should have no more of this con- 
flict, Miss Olive.” 

“ I thought you felt safe now, George, there- 
fore I gave you this warning, this urgent word 
to watch. There is a question I have wanted to 
ask you ever since you have been here, but I 
have put it off because I dreaded your answer. 
I will avoid it no longer. Tell me, George, were 
there any of your companions who were led to 
do wrong through you ?” 

‘'Yes, Miss Olive; there were three I in- 
fluenced.” 

“Alas ! there my sin faces me again. Since 
I caused you to go astray, whom you influenced 
I influenced. Oh if it could have stopped with 
one, just you, it would have been bad enough, 
but to extend to others, to have other souls en- 
dangered too, this is awful?' Tell me who it was 
you influenced, for I must save them too.” 

“ I would have spared you this. Miss Olive, 
if I could have done it, for I have caused you so 
much suffering and anxiety myself.” 


THE WAY OF RETURN. I99 

“ No, do n’t try to spare me, George ; tell me 
the worst, the very worst.” 

“ Suppose, Miss Olive, you let me begin my 
Christian w’ork by trying to reform those three 
boys, by trying to undo my evil work.” 

“This will be right, George, but I want to 
know all about them, so that I can pray for them 
and you intelligently, so I can second your 

work, so I can go over to M and labor for 

them with my whole energy if you find I can 
aid you.” 

Then George told Miss Olive of Jim and Joe, 
how they first tempted him, and how his firm 
refusal to yield filled them with respect and 
made them determine to break off from their 
loose habits and be better boys. Afterwards, 
because he fell into sin,. they went deeper and 
deeper, until it was no uncommon thing for 
them to spend half the night drinking and 
gambling. Then he spoke of Ned in a tender 
voice, of the kindness of Col. Winters’ family to 
him, of the delightful and profitable Sabbath 
afternoons he had spent with them, of their 
sympathy with him since he had no mother, no 
sister, to make him happy, and was only a poor 
lone boy in a big city. He added, 

“ My heart bleeds for Ned. I kept away 
from his home when I knew I was living wrong, 
and I would not go to Sunday-school for fear of 


200 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


meeting him. After uncle’s talk with me and 
I was doing better, I went to Sunday-school, met 
Ned, and promised to go out to his house that 
afternoon. I went, but I could not go into the 
presence of the ladies as boldly as before, so, 
pleading inability to sing on account of hoarse- 
ness, Ned and I went down to the fish-pond, sat 
in the boat, and talked. I had stopped short off 
from liquor and my thirst for it was gradually 
dying out, and I hoped in time to get rid of it 
entirely. Ned said his mother had saved us 
some syllabub and cake from dinner, and brought 
it out to me as I sat in the boat. The minute I 
tasted the wine in the syllabub, my thirst 
started to life again ; all the old love for it was 
renewed, and the few spoonfuls in the bottom 
of the glass instead of satisfying me only set me 
on fire. With an uncontrollable craving for 
more, I pulled out some cigarettes, which until 
then I had kept concealed, and smoked. Ned 
is a good boy, but easily influenced, and think- 
ing cigarettes looked stylish and manly, he 
finally accepted one and smoked until his head 
began to reel, and then he threw it overboard. 
It was my last visit to Col. Winters’, but I have 
since learned that Ned continued to smoke, until 
finding that cigarettes demanded more stimu- 
lant, he took his mother’s keys, opened her pantry, 
and in time drank up everything in the shape 


THE WAY OF RETURN. 


201 




of wine and cordial it contained. He was found 
out, for his condition betrayed him, and in deep 
sorrow they are laboring with him to keep him 
from habitual drunkenness. I cannot tell you, 
Miss Olive, how I regret this, how I mourn over 
Ned. I feel that I am the viper taken into their 
bosoms, loved, trusted, and nurtured, only to 
sting them to death.” 

“ Oh, George, how sad this is ! Only see how 
my work increases! Here is an endless chain, 
begun with me, continued in you, and now 
growing longer in three others. How many 
have been brought under the influence of these 
three, eternity alone will unfold. Truly the 
evil multiplies.” 

“And how much quicker it grows than good. 
Last night. Miss Olive, I lay awake thinking of 
these three boys, and I came to the conclusion 
that I must go back home, that there was work 
waiting for me which could not be put off. My 
time has been delightfully spent with you here, 
but I cannot be idle any longer. I must go 
back to M .” 

“ But you are not able yet, George. You 
surely will not attempt to go into your uncle’s 
store and attend to your ordinary duties yet 
a while.” 

“ I am improving rapidly. Miss Olive. Why, 
I can walk upon one crutch now and get about 


202 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


very well. I cannot do mucli as salesman yet, 
but I may be able to sit at uncle’s desk and aid 
him in his correspondence ; at any rate I must 
do what I can. I must look after Jim and Joe, 
and especially after Ned ; besides, I am anxious 
to hear from my cousin Will, to know whether 
my conversion had any effect on him, as my 
uncle hoped it might. I will have to leave to- 
morrow, Miss Olive.” 

“ Much as I would love to have you stay, 
George, I will not be in the way of your duty. 
Perhaps you are right in your decision. Life is 
too short to be wasted in pleasure. ‘ The night 
cometh when no man can work,’ this we know. 
Promise me that if there is anything you think 
I can do you will let me know, and that you will 
keep me posted about your work, your success, 
encouragement, or even discouragement.” 

“ I promise gladly. Miss Olive. It makes me 
feel so much stronger, not only to know that my 
Saviour is near to aid me, but to feel that there 
is one on earth sympathizing with me and wait- 
ing to cheer and help me. Yes, I f)romise 
gladly that you shall hear from me frequently.” 


MY brother’s keeper. 


203 


CHAPTER XX. 

MY brother’s KEEPER; 

‘‘Why, George, I am glad to see you back' 
again, my boy, but sorry that a crutch is still a 
necessary appendage.” 

“ Thank you. Col. Winters. I am glad to be 
out again, sir, even though I am compelled to 
call in the aid of a crutch ; indeed, sir, I am 
thankful that God did not strike me dead in that 
dreadful accident, before I had made my peace 
with him.” 

“Yes, George, yes. God has been good to 
you, my boy. Naturally he made you better than 
most boys, and now grace has renewed your 
heart. I give you my hand in Christian greet- 
ing, my brother.” 

“ From the depths of my heart I thank you. 
Col. Winters. Tell me, please, of Ned; how he 
is. I have not seen him since my return.” 

“ Oh, George, poor Ned ! He is in a terrible 
way ; I cannot understand it at all. Will you 
come to see Ned, my boy ?” 

“ Gladly, colonel, as soon as my work will 
permit; indeed I intended to hunt Ned up with- 
out waiting for any invitation from you. I am 


204 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


SO sorry to hear you speak so of him. Is he not 
well, or is it that he is not doing well? I have 
heard some reports about him, but hoped they 
might be unfounded.” 

“ Come out and see for yourself, George. I am 
glad you have come back on Ned’s account, for I 
hope much from your influence. Suppose you 
ride out with us to-morrow from church ; there 
will be plenty of room for you in the carriage.” 

“ Thank you, colonel, I shall be delighted to 
go home with you. You need not trouble about 
getting me back ; I can manage that.” 

“ No, I shall not let you manage that, George, 
for you must stay all night with Ned, and you 
can come back with me in my buggy early Mon- 
day morning ready for work.” 

“ All right, colonel, I will follow your advice 
since it is so very pleasant, and will let my aunt 
know that I will remain at your house until Mon- 
day morning.” 

How different George felt in the carriage with 
the ladies and Ned than he did the last time he 
went out to Col. Winters’, hiding behind the 
fence, then slipping off to the flsh-pond, a guilty 
boy ! Now his self-respect was restored, and he 
could look every one in the face without shame 
or fear ; but Ned, by his side, was restless and 
uneasy, showing himself little inclined to talk to 
his old friend, and his downcast eyes seemed to 


MY BROTHER’S KEEPER. 205 

see nothing of the beautiful world on that bright, 
sunshiny day. 

George had taken this contemplated visit and 
laid it at his Saviour’s feet, and he believed that 
He would give him strength to say and do what- 
ever was right. He felt that the position he oc- 
cupied was delicate, but his prayer he was sure 
would be answered, and gave himself no further 
concern about it. Conversation naturally turned 
upon the accident which caused the necessity for 
the crutch, his sufferings, long convalescence, 
and finally his conversion. How glad he was to 
speak a word for Jesus ! How he loved to dwell 
upon the Saviour’s mercy, his love, his long-suf- 
fering patience and goodness, and every face 
beamed in sympathy but one, and this one was 
looking out of the window and seemed intently 
watching the resolutions of the carriage wheels. 
George was shocked at the change in Ned. 
Hitherto he had been a loving, confiding boy in 
the heart of his family, but now he seemed to sit 
apart, one alone. Companionship appeared un- 
welcome, friends it seemed that he wanted none ; 
all that he desired was to be let alone. George 
did not appear to notice. He hoped that when 
they were by themselves Ned would open his 
heart, make a full and free confession, and then 
he hoped to influence him for good. After 
dinner Genie brought out the new singing-book. 


2o6 a seeming trifle. 

and for a time George sang with great delight ; 
but, seeing that Ned persisted in sitting silently 
by, and that his face was sullen, as though sing- 
ing were anything but a pleasure, he whispered 
to Genie, and walking over to Ned, proposed 
that they go down and sit in the boat. 

“Sing on if you want to,” Ned said, “but 
I get very tired of this everlasting singing on 
Sunday.” 

“ Why, Ned,” George said cheerily, “ I think 
it is perfectly delightful, and I never realized 
before how beautiful the words of these Sun- 
day-school songs are.” 

.“ I remember one Sunday when you did n’t 
think singing Sunday-school songs so ‘ perfectly 
delightful.’ ” 

Ned’s voice had a little sneer in it, but George 
replied pleasantly, 

“ Yes, Ned, I remember it too and with deep 
regret. Those days are passed, thank God ! I 
would not live them over again for all this world 
contains. But, Ned, what is the matter with you ? 
You don’t seem like the boy you used to be.” 

“ I ’m not ; I am a different boy. They watch 
me so closely I feel as though I had a whole 
police force after me all the time. Somebody 
has his eyes upon me the whole day long. 
I do n’t believe the house feels safe until I am 
•sound asleep, and then when daylight comes 


MY BROTHER'S KEEPER. 20/ 

that watching begins again. It makes me so 
mad I feel like putting a bundle of clothes on 
my back and flying.” 

“ But stop, Ned, why is this? What is the 
reason they watch you so closely ?” 

“ For fear I '11 do something awful.” 

“ What awful thing have you already done, 
Ned, that causes them to watch you for fear of a 
repetition ?” 

“Why, George, I smoked my first cigarette 
with you. You the good, model boy whom papa 
was always holding up for my imitation, you 
taught me how to smoke; and once started, I 
kept on. I got to loving the things, and all the 
change I could beg I spent in cigarettes. Many 
a pack have I smoked out here in this boat, and 
enjoyed them too. After a while cigarettes 
did n’t satisfy me exactly, and I felt I must have 
something stronger. I knew where mamma 
kept her cordial for sickness, so I got the keys 
and took a sip or two, persuading myself that I 
was really sick. In a few days I drank up all 
the cordial, and I tell you my head often went 
topsy-turvy. When this was gone I found the 
home-made wine, which was kept for flavoring, 
and I drank and drank until one day mamma 
found me lying on my bed pretty far gone. A 
search was made and the whole truth came out. 
They think I am a confirmed drunkard and ready 


208 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


to die any night with delirium - tremens, and 
they never leave me for a minute for fear I ’ll 
get something to smoke or something to drink. 
Still mamma puts the wine in her sauces because 
they are flat without it, and has her nice syl- 
labub. She keeps my appetite whetted and fired 
for worse, and then I ’m watched day and night 
for fear I ’ll get it. I despise to be for ever 
watched, to be dingdonged at for ever. If I 
could run away I ’d do it, and stay too.” 

Ned,” exclaimed George, “ I am just as sorry 
for you as I can be. From the very depths of 
my heart I sympathize with you. Yes, I led you 
the first step in the wrong direction, and you 
will never know how I have grieved over this. 
That cigarette was the false step. Now I want 
to help you all I can, for I must undo the evil I 
have done and I must begin at once. Suppose 
your parents are willing for you to come and 
stay a week with me at my uncle’s, boarding with 
me, working with me in his store, would you be 
willing to come ?” 

“ It is not worth while giving that thought 
a moment’s consideration.” 

“Why not, Ned?” 

“ For the simple reason that they will never 
consent.” 

“ But suppose they were to consent, would 
you agree to the arrangement?” 


MY brother’s keeper. 209 

“ Oh yes, indeed, I would gladly go ; but it is 
not worth while to talk of it, for they will never 
permit it. Allow me to get out of their sight 
a whole week ? Never.” 

“Don’t give up, Ned, before I try. Now 
another question. Will you promise to quit these 
evil habits entirely for that week? Nobody ' 
will watch you, you will be left to your honor, 
but I shall expect you to act the honorable gen- 
tleman with me.” 

“ I certainly will, George ; you may trust me 
for that.” 

“I do trust you, Ned ; I trust you without a 
doubt. Now I am going to see your father and 
mother and ask permission for you to go.” 

“Yonder they are, over on that rustic seat, 
apparently enjoying the sun, but you may de- 
pend they went there to keep me in sight.” 

“ Do n’t be so suspicious, Ned. I know it is 
natural in your frame of mind, but do n’t think 
everybody has you in mind whenever they turn 
around.” 

“ Well, I may possibly be too suspicious, but 
that ’s the way it looks to me, and I believe 
that ’s the way it would look to you if you were 
in my fix.” 

“ Perhaps it would, Ned ; I can’t say ; but I ’m 
going now to talk to your father and mother.” 

As George approached the rustic seat Col. 


A Seeming Ti Ifle. 


14 


210 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Winters laid down the paper he had been read- 
ing aloud and said, 

What does my boy want ?” 

George sat down upon a rock in front of them 
and said, 

“ I am sorry to interrupt your reading, col- 
onel, but I want to talk to you and Mrs. Winters 
a few moments, and, seeing you together here, 
I thought that this was perhaps my best time.” 

“ No matter about the reading, George,” 
Mrs. Winters said. “What did you wish to 
speak to us about?” 

“About Ned, Mrs. Winters. I came to beg 
you both to let him go home with me to-morrow 
morning and stay at least a week, boarding at 
my uncle’s with me and working with me at his 
store.” 

“ You surely cannot know how Ned has been 
conducting himself lately, George,” said Col. 
Winters, “ or you would never have asked this.” 

“Yes, sir, I know everything. Ned has con- 
fessed everything to me. It is now my time 
to make a confession to you both, and after- 
wards you may not be willing to trust him in 
my hands. I offered him his first cigarette ; he 
accepted it, smoked, acquired the habit, and 
from this went on to worse things.” 

“ Why, George, you amaze me. Did you 
ever smoke ?” 


MY brother’s keeper. 


21 1 


“Yes, Mrs. Winters, and I did worse than 
smoke. For a time it seemed to me I had seven 
devils bound up within me, but thank God they 
are all cast out and I am clothed and in my 
right mind, sitting at my Saviour’s feet. You 
may well be amazed at this confession from me. 
It was right for me to make it, much as it fills me 
with sorrow and mortification to do it. You 
thought me a model boy, colonel, a fit associate 
for Ned. I was at first, and when I yielded to 
temptation I did not come to your house, I kept 
away ; and not until I felt that I had given up 
my bad habits did I come. I had never been 
warned of cigarettes, and I thought them inno- 
cent things ; still in my mind I knew I was 
making a compromise with evil. Most unfor- 
tunately I brought my cigarettes here and thus 
tempted Ned. Now, colonel, since I have caused 
him to go astray I shall never be satisfied until 
he is the same pure, innocent boy he was before. 
Forgive me, if you can, for doing you this great 
wrong. I did not dream of any serious results 
or I would have cut off my right arm before I 
would have tempted him. Please, dear friends, 
let me try to undo the wrong I have committed.” 

“ I cannot think that a cigarette, could have 
brought on this evil,” said Col. Winters ; “ surely 
it could not. I am sorry he learned to smoke, 
but it seems to me there must be something 


212 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


back of all this that we do not understand. We 
are very uneasy about him, are afraid to let him 
out of our sight for a moment, an'^ feel that his 
salvation depends upon the closest watching.” 

‘‘Oh yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Winters, tears 
standing in her eyes, “ I never feel that the dear 
boy is safe unless I am sure he is sound asleep. 
I cannot see, George, how we can consent for 
him to leave home, for here everything like wine 
is locked up hard and tight so he cannot get it ; 
but were he away, why, I verily believe he would 
be dead in less than a week ! Oh this is a terri- 
ble grief to us !” 

George had a great many thoughts, but he 
said only this, 

“ Is it best, Mrs. Winters, to watch him so 
closely ? I believe there are some persons who 
cannot bear watching f it exasperates them, 
makes them desperate, and determines them to 
do all the evil they possibly can. You are 
much older and wiser than I and know far more 
of human nature, but I really don’t believe I 
could stand to be watched ; and, dear Mrs. Win- 
ters, excuse me for saying so, Ned cannot either. 
I have found this out by talking to him. You 
have tried watching, now, please, wont you try 
trusting a while ?” 

“ Oh, George, how can I ? I do n’t believe 
Ned can be trusted.” 


MY brother’s keeper. 


213 


“ Mrs. Winters, there is more honor in Ned’s 
nature than you know. He is an honorable boy, 
and his word will never be broken, you may de~ 
pend upon that. I asked him if he would like 
to go home with me, and he consented gladly. 
I then asked him if I could trust him ; he said 
I could. I told him no one would watch him 
at all, and asked him if he would act the honor- 
able gentleman with me, and he replied em- 
phatically, ‘ I will.’ Ned is truthful, Mrs. Win- 
ters. Wont you trust your boy ?” 

“ Oh, George, how can I ?” 

“ George,” and Col. Winters’ voice trembled, 
“ yes, I believe I can trust Ned. All you have 
said of him is true. He has a high sense of honor 
and is truthful to the last degree. I have told 
him that he was too easily influenced ; perhaps 
I found too much fault with him in little things. 
Wife, all George says is true, and I fear we have 
watched our boy too narrowly and not trusted 
him enough. I am willing for him to go with 
George if you are, dear. I can only pray for 
your efforts, George, in Ned’s behalf.” 

“ I suppose I must give my consent too, George, 
but oh it is with fear and trembling. I want to 
act wisely at all times, but I know I fail often. 
Please let us hear from you constantly, for I 
shall be overwhelmed with anxiety until Ned 
is safe at home again.” 


214 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“ Colonel, I thank you and Mrs. Winters for 
trusting Ned to me. I told him no one would 
watch him, and no one will ; but do not be over- 
anxious, for rest assured that nothing will occur 
which should be reported to you. I am going 
over to him now and will tell him simply that 
you both have consented for him to go with me. 
Please do n’t let him think it is done reluctantly, 
for I believe this would wound him deeply.” 

“ One thing, George, I must insist upon,” Col. 
Winters said, “ and that is, I must pay his board 
and must remunerate your uncle for allowing 
him to remain in his store during the specified 
time. Please explain to your uncle why he 
comes, and tell him I shall see him myself at 
my earliest convenience.” 

“Very well, colonel, but I am sure my uncle 
will be glad for me to have George as my vis- 
itor, also to have him with me in his store, and 
I think perhaps it is best for Ned to understand 
that this arrangement is mine and not yours.” 

“ Well, my dear boy, manage the whole thing 
to suit yourself. I will agree to anything.” 


FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 


215 


CHAPTER XXI. 

FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 

“ Hurrah, Ned, you are going !” 

You don’t say so, George! How did you 
manage it?” 

‘‘They are exceedingly anxious about you, 
Ned, and feel that your whole future life de- 
pends upon the present. You think they watch 
you too narrowly. It is not exactly that they do 
not trust you ; but think, Ned, no one watched 
you a few weeks ago, and did you prove worthy 
of their confidence ?” 

“ No, George, I confess not.” 

“ Yet when I told your father what you had 
promised me, he said, ‘Ned is the soul of honor, 
would not break a promise, and is truthful to 
the last degree.’ ” 

“ Did papa say that of me ?” 

“Yes, and looked proud of you when he said 
it.” 

“ Oh I am so glad he thinks I have one good 
spot.” 

“ Indeed he does. He said perhaps he was 
wrong in thinking you easily led, that it might 


2i6 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


have been his anxiety for you to be independent 
that made him think so ” 

“ And mamma, what did she say ?” 

“ She consented for you to go : but, oh, Ned, 
her love and anxiety for you are just over- 
mastering. She is willing to do anything, to 
suffer anything, that is for your good.” 

“ Well, I’m glad I am going, and neither mam- 
ma nor papa shall regret that they consented.” 

The next morning bright and early after 
breakfast the boys and Col. Winters were driv- 
en into the city, and George put Ned to work 
at once. He had a little whispered conversa- 
tion with his uncle as he sat by his side aid- 
ing in the correspondence, and Mr. Stovall 
smiled, nodded assent, and seemed pleased. Ned 
worked with a will. All of the seventeen years 
of his life he had been confined in a schoolroom, 
and now the change was delightful to him. He 
had never slept from home before, for his pa- 
rents did not approve of boys wandering about 
at night, and when night came it was with a 
strange feeling that Ned lay down beneath 
another roof ; and by the time the third night 
rolled around he was positively homesick. He 
determined to keep in though, to fight this 
feeling and the appetite that had enthralled him, 
until he could go home the same pure, good boy 
he had always been. George and Mr, Stovall 


FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 21/ 

both watched the battle and gave many a cheer- 
ing word. At the close of the first week Ned 
said, 

“ George, I am going home this evening. 
Your plan has proved a success. I thank you 
and your uncle for your efforts in my behalf, 
and between these, your encouraging words, 
and unremitting work, I believe I have become 
a different boy. Your uncle very kindly offers 
me a situation in his store, and if mamma and 
papa will only agree for me to accept, I shall be 
overjoyed. I would like to work for your uncle, 
to be near you ; indeed, since I have been here 
my feelings and aim are very different from what 
they were before I came. Then I had lost my 
self-respect and I did not care what became of 
me ; then I was a child, watched over and chided, 
but here I have thought and acted for myself. 
There the restraints made me long to overstep 
the bounds ; here I have had none ; no one has 
kept a vigilant eye on me, and I have wanted 
neither cigarette nor wine. ” 

When the buggy drove up to the bank and 
Col. Winters was about to step in, Ned walked 
up with confidence and said, 

“ Papa, my time of probation is out. May I 
go home with you this evening?” 

“ Certainly, my dear boy. We are all ready 
to give you the warmest and tenderest welcome.” 


2I8 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“ I do not deserve it, papa, yet I sliall be very 
glad to receive it. I have been right homesick.” 

“ Have you, my boy ? I am very glad to hear 
it, and mamma will be gladder still.” 

As they reached the gate, Genie, who was 
standing at the window, exclaimed, 

“Yonder is Ned coming with papa.” 

Mrs. Winters hastily joined her at the win- 
dow, and said, 

“ How glad I am ! See how happy they both 
look ! Thank the Lord for his goodness. How 
I have wrestled in prayer since that dear boy 
went away !” 

Up the front walk they came, laughing and 
talking as though they had not seen each other 
in months. As Mrs. Winters threw open the 
door, Ned put his arms tenderly around her and 
said, 

“ Mamma, your boy has come back to you, 
and so glad to get back too.” 

Mrs. Winters was too full to' speak, but 
Genie said, 

“ And the same dear old Ned too ; I can see 
that.” 

“ Yes, Genie, only I hope he is stronger in 
resolution and braver in purpose, a better boy 
every way, than the Ned who left you. Mam- 
ma, forgive me for giving you so much trouble 
and anxiety.” 


FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 219 

“My darling,” Mrs. Winters made out to 
say, “ this moment repays me for all. Your mo- 
ther has nothing to forgive, my boy, but oh so 
much to be thankful for !” 

What a happy reunion, although the sepa- 
ration had been so short! They talked that 
evening till a late hour, and conversation was 
free, unrestrained, and long. At length Ned 
said, 

“ Papa, I have a favor to ask of yourself and 
mamma.” 

“ Well, Ned, anything, my boy,” said Col. 
Winters. “You see what confidence I place in 
you to give you this carte blanche." 

“ I will not abuse your confidence, papa ; what 
I have to ask will involve but little. Mr. Stovall 
has very kindly offered me a situation in his 
store, and I ask your permission to accept it. I 
would not do so until I had returned and con- 
sulted you and mamma.” 

“Ned, I can give you a better situation in 
the bank than Mr. Stovall can possibly offer you, 
one in which you will get better wages, and I 
am sure you will like the work more.” 

“I do not doubt anything you have said, 
papa ; but you know money is no object, neither 
am I looking out for an easier berth or more 
pleasant work. What I want now is to add stur- 
diness to strength, to clinch the work I have be- 


220 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


gun, to stand by George, that Christian boy, side 
by side, to feel the weight of responsibility on 
my young shoulders, to know that though away 
from home I am trusted. All of my life I have 
been in a schoolroom, a child, and I shall enjoy 
going to work, and shall feel the burden of care 
and responsibility pleasant. I think a business 
education a most excellent thing to possess, 
and one of the very best educations in the world ; 
still I am perfectly willing to return to school, 
to enter college and complete the course you 
have marked out for me, after I have spent a 
year or two in business. As far as accepting a 
situation in the bank is concerned, papa, don’t 
you think I had better be thrown out entirely 
alone for a while to shift for myself, my success 
or the want of it dependent entirely upon my 
own exertions ?” 

“ Perhaps you are right, Ned. Yes, it may be 
better for you to start out alone, and I am de- 
lighted to see the spirit of independence you 
evince.” 

“ Do you wish to board at Mr. Stovall’s too, 
Ned?” Mrs. Winters asked anxiously. 

“ No, mamma, I shall come home every night. 
I forgot to tell you this. No, indeed, I had no 
idea of boarding at Mr. Stovall’s. Home is the 
sweetest place on earth to me, and I shall cling 
to it just as long as I possibly can.” 


FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 


22 


Then, my dear boy, since you asked my 
consent as well your father’s, I readily grant 
it,” said his mother. 

“You didn’t ask my consent, Mr. Ned,” 
said Genie playfully, “ but I grant it unasked. 
I am so glad you will be with George.” 

“ That is the greatest inducement for me to 
go to Mr. Stovall’s, Genie. I have seen that boy 
in the store hobbling around on a crutch, suffer- 
ing at times great pain, I have seen him in his 
uncle’s family, and in the quiet of his own room 
kneeling in prayer and studying his Bible, and 
I have longed to be like him, the humble, ear- 
nest Christian he is.” 

How quickly petitions flew heavenward for 
this once erring boy, that he might find the 
Saviour he was longing for ! 

In another moment Ned had walked over 
and taken the stool at his mother’s feet. Look- 
ing up in her face, he said, as he took her hand, 

“Mamma, dear mamma, I have a favor to 
ask oi you alone.” 

Every one looked with surprise, but his mo- 
ther said, 

“ Name it, dear. Your mother is ready to 
grant you any favor you can possibly ask.” 

“ But, mamma, I fear I may wound you.” 

“ Oh no, Ned, you need not fear that. Go on.” 

“ Mamma, will you promise then that from 


222 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


this time on you will banish wine, cordial, bran- 
dy, everything of this nature from our house ?” 

Mrs. Winters looked into Ned’s eyes a mo- 
ment bewildered, and he returned the look with 
one of tearful tenderness, then went on : 

“ I have learned, mamma, from Mr. Stovall, 
that it was because a Christian drank wine, one 
in whom George placed the utmost confidence, 
that he became perfectly reckless and went to 
drinking and gambling ; but when his uncle 
talked to him, and warned him of the hereditary 
love for strong drink that ran like a thread 
through their family, warned him by the un- 
timely death of his father, George listened, quit 
all evil practices, and became a sober boy ; and 
afterward — ” 

Ned paused, and in a husky voice Mrs. Win- 
ters said, 

“ Go on.” 

Ned went on : 

“ Afterwards, mamma, the next Sunday after- 
noon he came out here, we sat in the boat and 
ate the syllabub and cake which in your kind- 
ness you had saved for us. Oh, mamma, I no- 
ticed myself how eagerly he drained his glass, 
how his manner changed, and how he jerked 
out his cigarettes and smoked, one after another, 
as though he could never get enough ; and then, 
and then, mamma— I noticed it myself — from 


FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 223 

that time his thirst, whetted by the wine in the 
syllabub, gained complete control, and nothing 
satisfied him but whiskey, and he drank and 
drank, until God, in great mercy, stopped him.” 

“ And has my own boy to tell me this !” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Winters, and she buried her face 
and wept bitterly. 

“ Mamma, please, mamma — ” Ned began, 
greatly distressed ; but his mother wound her 
arms around his neck and kissed him, as she said, 

“ Oh, Ned, what a terrible mistake your mo- 
ther has made ! God forgive me ! My darling, I 
thank you for every word you have uttered, al- 
though I writhe under the lash. A Christian 
woman professing to try to do good, yet leading 
the young astray by the pride of her table ; a 
Christian mother praying for her boy, yet tempt- 
ing him continually by the food she placed be- 
fore him ! Oh, God, forgive me ! Only think 
that I, a Christian, might have had to answer 
for the loss of two souls, one an orphan boy, the 
other the darling of my heart ! Ned, your mo- 
ther has been blind a long time not to have 
seen this before, and how glad I am that you 
were brave enough to risk your mother’s dis- 
pleasure and point out her grievous fault. Yes, 
I am glad and thankful too. From this hour 
no spirits of any kind shall enter my door, and 
if I have to dispense with syllabub and sauces 


224 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


for ever, then let them go : other things are just 
as good, other things can be substituted that 
will do no harm. Nothing of this kind will I 
ever use again.” 

“ Mamma,” exclaimed Ned joyfully, “ I am so 
glad you view this matter as I do. As to dis- 
pensing with these desserts because they can- 
not be made without wine, I was talking to 
Mrs. Stovall upon this very subject the other 
day, and she said she used no flavoring of the 
kind from strict principle ; that once she had 
thought that sauces and things of this nature 
required some form of wine to keep them from 
being insipid ; but that she afterwards deter- 
mined that whether insipid or not she would do 
without, and that since this resolution they had 
positively not missed the flavoring, and that they 
enjoyed their desserts far more. I really saw 
no difference between their desserts and ours ; 
but if there was, I think we ought to adhere to 
principle.” 

“ So do I, Ned, and from this time I shall 
adhere to principle too, but I am sorry for the 
years I have spent in this sin. But instead of 
feeling mortified that I had to wait for my boy 
to point out the evil of my practice, I am proud 
that he had the courage and manliness to do 
it. Oh I see clearly, now that my eyes are 
opened, that mothers, through the pride of their 


FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 225 

tables, have made drunkards of their own sons. 
Never shall this be charged against me again.” 

“Well,” said Col. Winters, smiling, “I am 
delighted with this temperance reform. I really 
believe that mothers can do more than prohibi- 
tion or high license, by taking the right step at 
home upon their own tables with their own chil- 
dren. Sober children will make sober citizens.” 

“ I am delighted too, Ned,” said Genie, “ for, 
though, like mamma, I never saw the evil of 
wine flavoring before, yet I see it plainly now, 
and from this time I shall oppose the use of 
it at home and wherever else I may have any 
influence.” 

In a few days George received the following 
lines : 

“ L , April 27, 18—. 

“ Dear George : — I was overjoyed to read 
the good news of your letter, to know that Ned 
was proving so noble and fine a boy, and though 
not yet a Christian, that he was awake to his 
condition and felt his need of a Saviour. My 
prayer ascends for you both constantly, and not 
for you only, but for all who may have been in- 
fluenced by you, or rather by me, for your in- 
fluence is mine. I thank God that Ned is so. 
far safe, and I do not believe it will be long 
before his feet will be planted firmly upon 

15 


A .Scpnilns Trifle. 


226 • A SEEMING TRIFLE. 

the Rock of Ages. All you said of him interest- 
ed me deeply, especially the position he has 
taken in his family against the use of wine in 
desserts. I believe with you that did every 
woman take this stand, there would be hap- 
pier firesides and fewer drunkards in the land. 
Romanists say give them the training of a 
child till seven years of age, and the impression 
they will make during those tender years will be 
so indelible they will ask no more. The Bible 
tells us too that if the child is trained in the 
way he should go, when he is old he will never 
depart from it. The sacred duty of training de- 
volves upon mothers, and this is not for seven 
years, but for more than double that number, 
yet the multitude of wicked men in the world 
proves how faulty this home-training. Where 
is the home influence, the mother’s prayers, the 
sister’s warning! If every mother would take 
Mrs. Winters’ stand, I believe there would be less 
need for temperance lectures and efforts of phi- 
lanthropists and Christians to suppress the liquor 
traffic. We too have made the same resolve 
in our household, for not another drop of any- 
thing spirituous will ever come upon our table 
again. 

I am so glad you have joined the church, for 
that was the next step you should have taken. 
' In union there is strength,’ and I do not wonder 


FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 22/ 

that you feel stronger now that you have con- 
fessed your Saviour openly and joined the army 
of earnest workers who are battling for the Lord. 
I hope it will not be long before Ned will stand 
side by side with you in his service, a brother 
in Christ, a fellow-laborer with Him. Let me 
hear from him soon, for I am waiting to learn 
of his conversion. I am expecting much from 
your influence over your neighbors, Jim and Joe. 
You seem to hope more for Jim than for Joe, but 
remember there are no bounds to God’s love, 
his grace, goodness, mercy, and power. With 
God nothing is impossible. I am praying for 
you, and if there is anything I can say or do, do 
not hesitate to call upon me, and I will come at 
once. Inquire of Ned if there is any one he 
has influenced, and let us look after that person 
or persons too. It seems to me that I have 
thrown a rock into a calm, clear lake, disturbing 
the glassy surface, causing the concentric circles 
to widen, reaching farther and farther, until their 
sweep is almost boundless. How little Christians 
think of their far-reaching influence ! 

“ May the Almighty keep you beneath the 
shadow of his wing, that you may never stray, 
so that neither thought, word, nor action will 
ever influence for woe. 

“ Affectionately, your teacher, 
“OLIVE GREYSON.” 


228 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


It was now the middle of May. For ten 
long sorrowful months Olive had been working 
to counteract the influence of the past summer. 
George and Ned were safe, for Ned too had put 
on Christ and was a member of the church. 
Fortunately he had been kept so close that he 
had led no companion astray, so there was no 
evil work to undo. George’s labor with Jim and 
Joe was long and diflicult. They had gambled 
more than they had drank, and since Joe in- 
herited a love of money and cunning in acqui- 
ring it, George found it hard work to persuade 
him to give up cards and to make what he made 
honestly. Jim at length pledged himself to stop 
his evil practices, and Joe, having no partner 
in guilt, was constrained to quit too, but in his 
case no conscience was involved. Jim stood 
firm and kept his promise like an honorable 
boy. About the last of June Joe’s father was 
stricken with paralysis and died without a lucid 
interval. His effects were found to be in a sad 
condition and his estate was involved in heavy 
debt, for he had thought only of present gain 
and was working upon fictitious capital. Joe 
was the eldest son of a large, helpless family, 
and the insurance upon his father’s life simply 
provided a home, and now he was compelled to 
support his mother and four little children. The 
promise that he refused to make to George, God 


FAITHFUL EFFORTS REWARDED. 229 

forced him to carry out to the letter. Under this 
heavy affliction he was greatly changed, for 
from a merry, frolicking boy he became sud- 
denly a man with the weight of a large family 
upon his shoulders. One would have thought 
that having won at cards, having a taste and tal- 
ent for gambling, he would have preferred this 
means of livelihood, but his good sense and 
ideas of business forbade such a life, and with 
a serious young face he put his shoulder to the 
wheel and worked manfully. God had saved 


230 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

ANOTHER SUMMER. 

A YEAR had passed ere all the boys were 
safe, a year of prayer, anxiety, and work, but 
now Olive breathed freely. Who would have 
thought that that one thoughtless ten minutes 
would have taken twelve long, sorrowful months 
to counteract it ! Another summer had rolled 
around. Did Olive long for another outing, an- 
other visit to the Springs? No, indeed. She 
was thin and pale, and really needed the bene- 
fits of good mineral water and bracing air more 
than the summer before, but to every sugges- 
tion she replied that she preferred to remain 
at home. Lottie Bell was coming to see her, 
and a few days after the announcement Lottie 
was there. How glad they were to be together 
again, these friends of a summer! How their 
tongues flew, and how much they had to recount, 
the events of the twelve months gone 1 But Olive 
said nothing of her troubles or the cause, feeling 
that in these things she and Lottie dwelt apart. 

After Lottie had been there a few days 
Olive was quite surprised when the servant 
handed her two cards, and upon .them the names : 


ANOTHER SUMMER. 


231 


“ Frederick A. Lansing.” 

Douglass E. Manning.” 

Lottie laughed merrily at Olive’s wonder, 
while she was not surprised at all, indeed was 
expecting them that very afternoon. The visit 
was a mutual pleasure, and the young men pro- 
tracted their stay in the village for several 
days. 

One evening, as they sat in Dr. Grey son’s 
parlor, conversation turned upon recreation for 
the summer, when Mr. Manning inquired, 

‘^Are you not going to the Springs next 
month. Miss Olive?” 

“ No, Mr. Manning,” Olive replied without 
hesitation, I do not intend to leave home this 
summer.” 

“We had so pleasant a circle last summer,” 
he continued, “ Mr. Lansing and I thought we 
would call and see whether you and Miss Lot- 
tie could not be induced to join us. I hoped 
Dr. and Mrs. Greyson might be persuaded to go 
again.” 

Lottie, overhearing Mr. Manning’s remark, 
replied quickly, 

“You may count on me, Mr. Manning, but 
not until August, though. I would not miss my 
visit to the Springs this summer for any consid- 
eration. Come, Olive, do n’t set your head against 
this trip, for I heard your father say the other 


232 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


day that you really needed a change, that you 
were looking thin and pale, and you are.” 

Olive shook her head quietly and tried to 
turn the conversation into another channel ; but 
Lottie, with her usual persistence, said, 

“ Olive, you can ’t decide this matter by a 
shake of your head and an attempt at evasion. 
I am going out to ask your father if you cannot 
go, and if he says ‘ yes,’ we will take you ‘ vi et 
armis,' as my Latin grammar used to say.” 

Laying her hand on Lottie’s arm, Olive said, 

“ No, Lottie, father would consent, I know ; 
but I do not feel that I ought to leave home this 
summer ; indeed, months ago I came to the con- 
clusion that a gay watering-place is no place for 
me.” 

“ And why not, pray ?” Lottie asked. “ If 
you do n’t need diversion I do n’t know who 
does ; if you do n’t need variety, shut up in a 
little village like this, I would like to know 
who does. It seems to me, Olive, that you ought 
to be willing to abide by your father’s decision. 
He has age, experience, and wisdom on his side, 
and certainly knows better what is for your good 
than you do.” 

“ Please, Lottie, .say no more about this. I 
would really like to visit the Springs again, but 
I cannot.” 

“ There is something rather contradictory in 


ANOTHER SUMMER. 


233 


your assertions, Miss Olive,” Mr. Lansing said, 
“ for you say you would ‘ like ’ to go, your father 
is willing for you to go, there is no obstacle in 
your way, yet you declare you ‘ cannot.’ There 
is a mystery about it I cannot solve.” 

Mr. Manning waited until his cousin reached 
a period, and then in a half-impatient way said, 

“ Please let Miss Olive do as she wishes with- 
out questioning, Fred. If she does not desire to 
go, that is sufficient. The ‘ mystery,’ as you call 
it, need not be solved.” 

Olive looked into Mr. Manning’s face, and it 
was evident from its expression that he thought 
the reason of her opposition to her parents’ 
wishes and to their urgent pleadings was. some- 
thing more than the gay watering-place, and he 
was inclined to be very silent and dignified. 

“ Mr. Manning,” and Olive’s voice was deep- 
ly in earnest, “ my one and only reason for de- 
clining to go to the Springs this summer is be- 
cause I do not feel that I can be trusted amid its 
gayeties.” 

Lottie and Mr. Lansing were inclined to be 
amused at this declaration, but Mr. Manning re- 
ceived it more seriously. 

“ I will take you under my wing, Olive,” 
Lottie said with a merry laugh ; “ then I am sure- 
you will be perfectly safe.” 

Olive shook her head again, and Lottie added, 


234 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“ That shake was a poor compliment, Olive. 
Indeed, since I come to think of it I am really 
hurt that you received my kind offer without 
thanks, simply and silently declining it. I tell 
you, Miss Greyson, it is no small thing to be 
taken under Lottie Bell’s all-protecting wing ; it 
means a great deal.” 

“ What, for instance, Lottie ?” Olive asked 
archly. 

“ Modesty forbids that I should boast. Miss 
Greyson, and if your want of perception is so 
great that you cannot see the advantages to be 
derived, the punishment I shall inflict is to con- 
sign you to continued ignorance.” 

Thank you, Lottie, for so light a punish- 
ment. ‘ Ignorance is bliss,*’ the old adage declares, 
and in this instance I am inclined to believe it is.” 

Lottie laughed and replied, 

“ Come, Olive, I do not feel equal to a tilt of 
words this evening ; let ’s shake hands and quit. 
I withdraw my wing of protection since it meets 
with no appreciation ; and now, in plain speech, 
without preamble or exordium, I call upon you, 
Olive Greyson, to tell us three people here as- 
sembled why you cannot trust yourself at the 
Springs this summer.” 

Mr. Manning tried to interpose a word, but 
Lottie stopped him by saying, 

“ No, Mr. Manning, your speech is not in 


ANOTHER SUMMER. 235 

order. I insist upon your sitting- perfectly quiet 
and listening to this confession.’* 

“ But perhaps, Miss Olive,” Mr. Manning be- 
gan, but this time Olive interrupted him by 
saying, 

“ I am perfectly willing to explain my posi- 
tion, Mr. Manning ; indeed, I think the time 
has come when I should do so. Last summer 
was the most delightful summer of my life. My 
happiness at the Springs far exceeded my bright- 
est anticipations. The friendships I formed I 
prize highly, and I am delighted to renew and 
extend the acquaintance of three of the friends 
whom I met there. But, my friends, I made 
some missteps at the Springs last summer that 
have taken me twelve long months to retrace. 
I did not forget my Saviour, I did not forget 
prayer, but I did forget to watch. Somehow 
away from home I was led to think example 
nothing, my Christian influence nothing, but I 
know better now. Christians cannot be hid, and 
their example and influence for weal or woe 
will meet them when they least expect it.” 

“ Olive Grey son,” said Lottie seriously, “ what 
did you do at the Springs last summer that took 
twelve months to undo, months fraught with 
suffering ?” 

“ I played cards, Lottie, I drank wine.” 

‘^And which of us three sitting here can 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


236 

cast the first stone of condemnation, I would 
like to know ? I thought when people went to 
watering-places they went to unbend, to have a 
good time. I thought they went for change, for 
health and recreation, not for example’s sake. 
Here are three of your party. We all played 
cards, we all drank wine. We profess to be 
Christians too, and live, I suppose, within the 
bounds of moderation at home, yet why is it that 
you have to suffer for one little transgression, 
while the rest of us go free ?” 

“ It appears to me. Miss Olive,” said Mr. 
Manning, “ that the ‘ one little transgression ’ to 
which Miss Lottie alludes, the transgression of 
ten minutes’ duration, was small indeed. Some 
one begged, insisted, that you take a vacant seat 
so that an interesting game need not be broken 
up, and — ” 

“ I did that,” said Lottie, interrupting, “ I 
insisted almost rudely upon her taking the seat 
by me, and with the greatest reluctance she did 
it, and it was done only in a spirit of accommo- 
dation.” 

“Yes, that is all true. Miss Lottie. We all 
heard her decline at first and then yield because 
she could not resist the clamor for her to play. 
That certainly. Miss Olive, was a mere trifle. 
As to your drinking wine, the rest of us drank it 
without the slightest hesitation, but you posi- 


ANOTHER SUMMER. 


237 


lively refused it, had it carried away, would not 
even allow it by your side ; and when I saw this 
I ordered a lemonade, never dreaming that the 
waiter wculd bring a mixed glass. But indeed I 
did not think you would understand the reason 
of its color, so I waited and watched to see 
if you would drink, for I intended to have it 
changed again if your conscience would not 
allow you to touch it ; but just then you raised it 
to your lips, and I thought of it no more.’' 

So I was the tempter in the first place, and 
you in the second, Mr. Manning,” said Lottie. 

You and I then are the cause of all of Olive’s 
trouble.” 

“Oh no,” Olive exclaimed, “please don’t 
think of it in that way. I exonerate everybody 
from blame but my poor, weak self. I alone 
was responsible, I alone guilty. Mr. Manning, 
you spoke of my transgression as small : do you 
think, sir, that any transgression is ever small?” 

“Comparatively, yes. Miss Olive,” was re- 
plied, “ and yours was certainly the smallest in 
the whole category.” 

“ But how is it. Miss Olive,” said Mr. Lansing, 
“ that you were guilty, as you call it, once, while 
we sinned continually, day and night, and have 
never thought or heard of our actions since, 
while you have been punished a whole year ?” 

“I can explain that, Mr. Lansing, easily 


238 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


enough,” said Lottie. “ Olive is a very different 
Christian from what we are. She is consecrated, 
her religion is an every-day thing, while her 
life has been measured by the plumb-line of 
Scripture and her precept and practice have 
always accorded. Even at the Springs her light 
shone brightly. Everybody respected her con- 
science and principles, everybody knew she 
was a Christian at first sight ; while we — why I 
doubt if a single person there had the slightest 
suspicion that our names were upon any church- 
roll in all the land.” 

Olive had attempted to interrupt Lottie while 
she was speaking, but without success, and now 
with a flushed face she exclaimed, 

“ Oh, Lottie, how little I deserve the words 
you have uttered ! I only wish I were the con- 
secrated Christian you represent me to be, but 
indeed I am far from it. I can easily explain to 
you how my example and influence caused oth- 
ers to go astray.” 

Then she drew a touching picture of the 
orphan boy who had clung to her with such 
implicit trust, of his promises, his temptations, 
the letter he had written and the question he had 
asked ; indeed every event of the twelve months 
past she graphically, eloquently described. Her 
voice trembled with emotion as she went on, 
and there was emotion visible upon the faces 


ANOTHER SUMMER. 239 

of her listeners. When she had finished, Lottie 
said seriously, 

“Olive, while you were relating that truly 
pathetic story, I could not help rejoicing that I 
had no influence.” 

“ Oh but, Lottie,” replied Olive, “ you have. 
I doubt whether there is any one devoid of in- 
fluence, and a woman of your strength of char- 
acter must have much.” 

Lottie sighed and was silent. 

“Miss Olive,” Mr. Manning said solemnly, 
“ Miss Lottie was congratulating herself on her 
want of influence while you were speaking, 
whereas I was passing judgment upon myself for 
being nothing, doing nothing. If I am a Chris- 
tian at all, I very much fear that my light has 
been compressed under a bushel all of my life.” 

Mr. Lansing gazed out of the window in 
deep thought, but said nothing. At length Lot- 
tie spoke. 

“ Olive, is there not such a thing as being 
over-scrupulous ?” 

Olive's mind ran back to the time when that 
word rang in her ears, when the fear of being 
counted over-scrupulous made her play cards 
and drink wine, and she replied, 

“ Better be counted over-scrupulous, Lottie, 
than to ^in and lead others astray.” 

The young men arose to leave, but Olive said. 


240 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


“ This is our prayer-meeting evening. Hark ! 
the first bell is ringing now. Wont you, young 
gentlemen, remain to tea with us and then ac- 
company us to church ?” 

“Thank you. Miss Olive,” Mr. Lansing re- 
plied, “ we have an engagement to tea ; but we 
will meet you and Miss Lottie at church and 
will return with you after the services are over 
if you have no objection.” 

And so it was agreed. 


A LIVING CHURCH. 


241 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A LIVING CHURCH. 

Lottie Bell had not been in L - — more than 
two weeks before she concluded that the church 
to which Olive belonged was a most singular 
church indeed. She had spoken of ^‘relating 
experiences,” of arraigning for non-attendance 
upon the Lord’s Supper,” as very old-fashioned 
practices, but the more she saw of this church 
the more old-fashioned it seemed to her. It was 
not a large church, yet its Sunday-school far out- 
numbered its membership. It was not a wealthy 
church, yet few churches in the State gave as 
much in Christian charity; and as to its Sun- 
day-school, its treasury was always full, even 
though it supported a heathen boy and sent two 
young students to college. Everybody seemed 
so glad to give in this church. It was not like 
some churches where Lottie had visited, where, 
when money had to be collected for any purpose, 
it almost had to be pulled out of purses by force — 
when one brother would stand up and say, “ I ’ll 
give $20,” and slowly take his seat, and every- 
body would have plenty of time to sit in admi- 
ration at his generosity before the next brother 
16 


A Seeming Trifle. 


242 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


would make up his mind to get up. In this 
church nobody’s right hand seemed acquainted 
with the left that held the purse. Lottie re- 
membered some place in the Bible, she could not 
remember where, when at some king’s command 
a chest was set without at the gate of the house 
of the Lord for contributions, and every night 
it was so full they were compelled to empty it, 
and she thought so would it be with this church. 
Another very strange thing to her was that 
upon Wednesday night the chapel was full, and 
if the prayer-meetings are the thermometers of a 
church, “ surely,” she thought, “this one remains 
at summer heat.” Everybody sang so heartily 
and the brethren prayed so fervently and seemed 
so bubbling over with something good to say, 
and the atmosphere was so full of love, and 
everybody went away stronger and happier after 
every prayer-meeting. But perhaps the stran- 
gest of all the strange things was that pastor and 
people seemed to live as convinced of the su- 
preme importance of heartfelt and consistent 
piety, and that there were continual accessions 
to the church from the world. Dr. Lyman did 
not believe in spasmodic revivals. He said that a 
state of continuous revival should be the normal 
condition of every church, and that was the way 
it was in this church. Truly it zvas a singular 
church. 


A LIVING 'CHURCH. 


243 


Upon the Wednesday evening referred to in 
the last chapter, when Lottie went with Dr. Grey- 
son’s family to prayer-meeting, she heard some- 
thing which startled her very much. A young 
man arose voluntarily and made a confession. 
He said he had omitted prayer and reading God’s 
Word for some time, had absented himself from 
the Lord’s table, had grown indifferent in his 
service, that the pleasure which he once felt in 
working for his Saviour no longer filled his heart, 
his love had grown cold, his zeal was dead, and 
he begged the prayers of the entire church in his 
behalf. Prayer was immediately offered for 
the delinquent member, a melting prayer, that 
he might be healed of his backslidings, forgiven 
for his shortcomings, and be brought to his 
Father’s loving arms again. 

Lottie looked all the amazement she felt. 
“ What had this young man done ?” This she 
kept asking herself, but could find no answer. 
She did not recover from her wonder all of the 
evening, even though the young men returned 
with them and remained until a late hour : even 
though this was their last visit, since they were 
compelled to leave next morning. Her mind 
was abstracted. No matter what was transpiring 
around her, it would run back to the scene she 
witnessed in church. Throughout the week she 
was serious and thoughtful. 


244 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Upon the next Sabbath morning when an 
opportunity was given for any who wished prayer 
to rise, Lottie Bell was the first to stand up, 
and when any were invited to remain and meet 
the pastor in his study who desired to con- 
verse with him, she remained. Dr. Lyman had 
met her at Dr. Greyson’s, knew her as Olive s 
special friend, had been much pleased with her, 
and was now greatly surprised at this request 
for prayer and conversation. To his first ques- 
tion when they were in the study together she 
replied, 

I have been living under a great mistake, 
sir. I thought I was a Christian when I joined 
the church, but I know now that I was deceived.” 

“ It is a terrible thing to be deceived, my 
child.” 

“ It is indeed, sir ; I realize it fully.” 

“ How do you expect to rectify your mis- 
take ?” 

“ I must seek, sir, begin over again : make a 
business of this thing ; never give up until I am 
a true Christian.” 

That is the way, the only way, to correct such 
a mistake as this ; but perhaps, after all, you 
were not deceived ; perhaps you have wandered 
from your Saviour, have not worked for him as 
you did at first, have not communed with him as 
much, like a child with a loving father, have not 


A LIVING CHURCH. 245 

read his Word as much. As exercise and nourish- 
ment are necessary to physical life, so too are 
they necessary to spiritual sustenance — work, 
prayer, and meditation.” 

“ I tell you. Dr. Lyman, I have not the first 
conception of what it is to be a Christian. I 
know absolutely nothing of those things you 
have just referred to. I have had good home 
instruction too, and my mother is a good Chris- 
tian woman ; but one thing I do know, and that 
is that I am not, I never have been, a Chris- 
tian.” 

“ How do you know you are not, my child ?” 

“ Because, sir, I have measured myself by 
another, and I fall far short of what she is.” 

“ May I ask who this standard is you have 
set for yourself?” 

“ Olive, sir.” 

“ Ah yes, and you think you do not equal 
' Olive ?” 

“ I know I do not. Dr. Lyman.” 

Tell me some of the points in which you 
and Olive differ.” 

“ Well, sir, the first great difference is, Olive is 
a Christian and I am not. I know this because 
Olive’s centre around which she revolves is 
Christ, and mine is not. She loves the Saviour, 
loves his service, is never so happy as when 
working for him, and she is ready to make any 


246 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


sacrifice for him. At the Springs last summer 
she was beautifully consistent, her light shone 
far and wide ; everybody respected her religion, 
everybody felt a deference for her convictions and 
conscience, and two trifling things she did — ” 

'‘Yes, she told me about those trifling things, 
of the time when she put ten minutes of pleasure 
against twelve months of sorrow. Poor child ; 
she forgot that we cannot count the links in the 
chain of influence, they are so many and so close- 
ly interwoven. Olive stepped aside once, but the 
lesson she has since learned was sad but salutary, 
and I believe it will keep her from other mis- 
steps throughout her life.” 

“ Why, sir, what she did was a veritable trifle 
compared with what I did day and night, yet 
my conscience did not give me a solitary pang. 
Nobody knew I professed to be a Christian at 
the Springs, nobody would have believed it had 
they been told, so nobody was influenced by 
such a professor as I. Dr. Lyman, I have never 
done one good thing in all my life : I have set 
no example for any one to follow, I have in- 
fluenced no one for good. Christians bring 
forth fruit ; I have not one piece to show for all 
these six years of church membership, so you 
know I am no Christian.” 

“ ‘ Nothing but leaves is that the song for 
you, my child ?” 


A LIVING CHURCH. 247 

“ I am not sure, sir, that I can even claim to 
have borne ‘ leaves.’ ” 

^‘You say you have never done one good 
thing in all your life, yet I have been told dif- 
ferently.” 

“ Oh please don’t talk that way to me,” and 
Lottie burst into tears. “ I am a sinner ; please 
talk to me as a sinner. I have done nothing for 
him. I am only a guilty sinner in God’s sight.” 

Dr. Lyman had probed her heart ; he saw that 
she was thoroughly awakened and truly convict- 
ed, that she felt she was worse than nothing in 
the sight of heaven. Whether she was a Chris- 
tian, a poor, wandering, backsliding Christian, 
or whether she had been deceived when she 
joined the church, he could not tell ; but he talked 
to her sweetly, tenderly as a sinner, directing her 
to Him who came to seek and save the sinner, 
and then he bowed in prayer and committed 
her to the care of the sinner’s Friend. Dr. Ly- 
man promised to call upon her soon, and Lottie 
arose, bade him good-morning, and passed out 
of the study just as another inquiring friend 
came in. 

Olive was in genuine distress. She had been 
sure that Lottie was a Christian, though she had 
grown cold in her Master’s service ; but Lottie 
would listen to nothing of the kind, and de- 
clared that she had been deceived from the first. 


248 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


Dr. and Mrs. Greyson and Olive watched the 
struggle with much prayer and intense interest. 
For a week it continued, Dr. Lyman calling 
nearly every day to see her, while ‘Olive was 
her constant companion and counsellor. At the 
end of this time a dim light dawned on Lottie’s 
mind, which grew brighter and brighter, until 
in full confidence and in perfect peace she 
could exclaim, “ My Lord and my God !” It was 
beautiful now to hear her talk of her Saviour as 
of some one she had just met, of Christian duty, 
responsibility, and influence, but it was sad to 
hear her mourn for the lost years of her life. 

“I know Jesus has forgiven me for all this,” 
she said, “but how can I ever forgive myself 
for wasting all this precious time upon the 
world !” 

Lottie Bell was certainly a Christian now, 
and she cut short her visit to Olive that she 
might hurry home and go to~ work. She saw 
the needs of her home, her church, her com- 
munity, and full of zeal for her Master she went 
to do what she could towards a reformation. 

Two other persons had been secretly meas- 
uring themselves by Olive Greyson. Even be- 
fore Lottie Bell had seen herself in her true 
light, Mr. Manning had been searching his 
heart, silently communing with himself and in- 
quiring what the difference was between himself 


A LIVING CHURCH. 


249 


and that consecrated girl. He could not com- 
fort himself with the hope that v/as then within 
him ; instead, he had to run back, dig up some 
fossil hopes at the time of his conversion, and 
dwell upon the memories of the joy that once 
flooded his heart in the long ago when Jesus 
spoke peace to his soul. He clung to these, he 
thanked the good Lord for even this little ray 
of sunlight, for even the remembrance of the 
past, and for hopes so long buried that they were 
almost beyond present recognition. But oh the 
loss of the intervening years ! How he mourned 
over these, how he longed to live them over 
again ! Now that he felt he had received a 
“ welcome home ” to his Father’s arms again, he 
began to look around for an opportunity to do 
good, and commenced by making an appeal to 
his cousin. Here he found a heart made mellow 
by a Christian example and influence ; here was 
a wandering Christian, ready, yea, longing, to 
return and do his first works over again. As 
they walked to prayer-meeting together, Mr. 
Lansing said, 

“ I really believe, Douglass, that the influence 
of passive Christians is the most baneful influ- 
ence in the world.” 

“ I do not wonder, Fred,” said Mr. Manning, 
“ that you and I should believe this, since our 
eyes have been opened. I did not dream before 


250 


A SEEMING TRIFLE. 


what a far-reaching influence a Christian wields ; 
and if this is not decidedly for Christ it is 
decidedly against him ; there can be no middle 
ground. You used the word ‘ passive ’ Christian, 
and while he may be passive by non-activity, yet 
his influence is by no means passive ; it cannot 
be. I do not believe that a true Christian can 
remain ever listless and inactive ; I believe a 
time will come when he will be aroused from 
his lethargy and made to go to work.” 

“ Thank God we were awakened before our 
days were nearly spent,” said Mr. Lansing. 

“ Thank God for his boundless love and 
mercy,” replied Mr. Manning from a full heart. 


Three Beahtifhl Bool^s. 

— ^ — 

The Life of Christ in Picture and Story . 

By Mrs. L. S. Houghton. With 190 fine illustrations. 
296 pp. Quarto. $i 50. Bevelled boards, gilt, $2. 

“ The benign and tender story of the Saviour’s life and 
death is reverently told in appropriate language. The manners 
and customs of the people and the events of the New Testament 
history are finely illustrated by beautiful wood engravings.” 

Graphic. 

“ The chief attraction of the book is its wealth of illustra- 
tion. Almost every page has its picture, and they are uniformly 
well chosen and well executed.” National Baptist. 

The Bible in Picture and Story. 

By Mrs. L. S. Houghton. Quarto. 269 illustrations. 
240 pp. Cloth, $1 25 ; gilt, extra, $1 75. 

“ It is very freely illustrated. The type is large and suit- 
able for little folks, and the old, old stories of the old, old Book 
are told in a manner calculated to prove very attractive to little 
learners.” New York Observer. 

“ The story is told with genuine simplicity and artless in- 
terest.” Occident. 

The Pilgrim's Progress. 

By John Bunyan. With a Memoir of the Author, and 
127 choice engravings. Quarto. 324 pp. Cloth, $1 50 ; gilt, 
bevelled, $2. 

“We do not know'of any edition of the “ Pilgrim’s Prog- 
ress ” the mechanical outfit of which is so well calculated to 
widen the already world-wide popularity of this semi-inspired 
similitude . . . Here is a story more entertaining than any novel 
and pictures more attractive than the street posters, for the young, 
once bring them together.” Methodist Protestant. 

T^trieriQari Tract Society, 

150 NASSAU ST. and 304 FOURTH AV., NEW YORK. 


invaluable books 

BY REV. JAS. STALKER, M. A 


LIFE OF CHRIST. i2mo. 166 pp. 60 cts. 

One of the latest and best lives of our Lord. Highly 
and universally commended. 

“ It presents in a comparatively small space a clear, con- 
cise, and at the same time eloquent account of our Lord’s 
career and teachings.” — Congregationalist. 

THE LIFE OF ST. PAUL. i2mo. 183 pp., with map. 
60 cts. 

A new and admirable work on this exhaustless theme. 

The author avails himself of the best previous writings 
and presents his own fresh thoughts clearly and concisely. 

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given comprehends all the salient points and unites them 
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IMAGO CHRISTI. i2mo. 332 pp. $1 50. 

“The book* holds the interest from the beginning to the 
end. The style is terse, clear, straightforward, adorned only 
by a lack of adornment.” — Christia^i Inquirer. 



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